Crossing Back Into The Blue: The Sister's Story

My First Car

2012-01-08T08:24:00.000-08:00

My first car was a pale yellow 1984 Ford Fairmont. Affectionately known as “The Banana Mobile.” I bought it in 1989 about a month after I moved from NY to Palm Beach, Florida.

My father came with me to the dealership, Roger Dean Chevrolet, and we went on the hunt. Our salesman, a HOT HOT guy named David DiMessino (yes, he was so hot, that I remember his name 20+ years later) showed us a few cars and we finally came upon my Fairmont. This car was DA BOMB. It was the high end of the Fairmont line with all the bells and whistles. Power windows and locks, cruise control, and the icing on the cake…A kickin’ AM/FM stereo with 8-track player. Oh yeah.

Being 17 with no car-buying experience, I get a look inside this car and I am literally bouncing up and down with excitement saying something along the lines of “I want this one! I want this one!” David the salesman was smiling from ear to ear and my father looked like he wanted to kill me.

Off we go into the office with David to get the deal done. It was here that I learned about haggling. Prices were offered, words were spoken, and ultimately my father got up and said “Let’s go, Liss, we’re leaving.” I continued to sit there, looking back and forth between my father and my David and trying to figure out what the hell just happened. I was mortified. I was a very bright 17 year old yet it never occurred to me to just say to my father, “Hey, I’ve worked since I was 11 years old for this money and we’re staying!” Instead, in his best lower octave serious voice dad gives me one more “Let’s. Go.” Slowly I stand up, tears in my eyes, and we walk out of the dealership. I have a pocket full of money, no car, no David DiMessino, nothing.

We get into dad’s car and go home. On the way, my father assures me that David will call and agree to the price we wanted. In fact, he promised, he probably already called and there will be a message waiting for us by the time we get home…

Tomorrow: The adventures of Ilisa and her Banana Mobile…

My love/hate relationship with...Florida

2011-12-17T13:32:00.000-08:00

I fell in love with Florida the very first time I went. It was February of 1978. Growing up in NY all I ever knew was that summer was warm and winter was cold. To have gotten off the train in Miami Beach (contrary to popular belief, there is no such place as “south beach”. That’s just a pet-name for Miami Beach that has evolved over the years) in the middle of February and have it be warm was all it took. I was almost 7 years old and it didn’t take much to make me happy. From that point on, it was my goal to live in Florida.

In 1989 when I was 17, my dream came true and I moved to Palm Beach County with my parents. Eventually I moved away for my job in the military. But I have always enjoyed going back. Flying into PBI always made me giggle like I was a kid. Seeing that coast and those palm trees come into view was the best feeling ever. Every single time. And I made that flight countless times over the years. As wonderful as all of that was, the best part about being in Florida was seeing my mom and dad. Even after mom died, I still loved going to Florida. After all, dad was still there.

When dad died I made a trip to Florida for the funeral. I remember that flight into PBI like it was yesterday. My amazing coastline and beautiful palm trees came into view and my immediate thought was “I hate this fucking place. I am never coming back here again.”

I know that my emotions were raw. It didn’t help that I had just flown 15 hours from South Korea and barely knew my own name by that point. But it didn’t matter. For me south Florida had lost its allure.

About a year later, my sister Michele, who still lives in Palm Beach County, was getting married. It was going to be my first trip back since dad had passed away. I was with Eric by then and I was looking forward to showing him the area I had grown to know, love, and adopt as my own. So the trip turned out to be a good one. Happy. Lots of fun memories. Subsequently I have made several more trips to visit my sister as well as my Aunt who also lives in the area.

With each trip back, however, I have become more and more unhappy. I don’t know what it is, but when I go back to visit, and drive around, I see memories of mom and dad. All other times that I have gone home those memories had made me smile, and over the last 3 or 4 visits instead of making me smile, it makes me sad. I don’t get it. I would have thought that the memories would continue to make me smile and become progressively easier. Instead, they have become progressively more sad.

Florida used to be my “happy place”. Now it feels like I have not only lost my folks, but that I have lost my “happy place” as well. My “you-CAN-go-home-again” place.

Don’t get me wrong, I am THRILLED with the life I have created for myself and the people who are in it. I am VERY happy. I just feel, sort of an additional loss if you will, when it comes to Florida. I am not quite sure what to do with it yet. I still love palm trees, though.

Goldsboro Comes Through!

2011-10-25T16:28:00.000-07:00

Ah, food. I love food. And I have the hips to prove it.

Last Friday night though, was an exceptional night for food. For one of my favorite foods too, no less! That night I had a steak worthy of the highest praise from none other than…me.

On the recommendation of a co-worker, Eric and I visited a brand new restaurant in Goldsboro, NC called Carl & ‘Chelle’s (which I am guessing is short for MI-chelle). If am not mistaken they have only been open since September. Now, living here in Goldsboro I have received recommendations-a-plenty from people regarding where to eat. Some places have even been pretty good. The majority of the time however, the places left me wondering what the hell these people were smoking before they came out with their recommendations. So suffice it to say, expectations were a little bit reserved. Still, being a bit of a food/steak snob, I simply MUST go to a place that came this highly recommended. We were not disappointed.

The restaurant is small, with only about 8 tables total. We arrived just before 6pm and waited about 20 minutes for a seat. While we were waiting, a couple who had just finished eating saw us waiting and asked us if we had ever eaten there before. We told them no, and they told us that it would be well worth the wait. Expectations and hope went even higher. It must be good when people leaving are raving to complete strangers about the quality of the fare, right? When we sat down, the first thing that we noticed was that there were no menus. I have been to such an establishment before and believe you me, it takes a huge ego and exceptional quality to get away with that. After the waiter took our drink orders, the chef himself rolled up to our table with a butcher block and two whole cuts of beef. Tonight they were serving Ribeye and Filet Mignon. I began to drool. I knew we were in for a treat. I picked the 8oz Filet while Eric went with the Ribeye. Both ordered medium-rare. Always a pleasure going to a restaurant where the quality of the beef is good enough to be ordered at the temperature you desire. Your choice for a side was either a baked potato or a twice-baked potato. There was also a salad bar which was basic, but plenty of traditional options.

In short order, out came our meals. Holy cannoli. This steak was utterly amazing. It cut like butter. It was seasoned to perfection. It was cooked perfectly. I have been to some of the best steakhouses in countries all over the world, and this steak was without a doubt in the top three. Maybe even the top two. It brought a smile to my face and tears to my eyes. In Goldsboro. A mere 25 minutes from home. I will be recommending Carl and ‘Chelle’s to anyone who will listen to me. Anyone with taste, that is.

You knew that...right?

2011-09-06T17:57:00.000-07:00

I love my dog, Macy. She is the biggest boo-bear, with the sweetest disposition ever and I am so lucky to have her.

She had a cancer scare last year right before I deployed and *knock wood* she has been happy, healthy and cancer free since having surgery to remove the small tumor. Life is good. That said, she's an older dog already. At 11 years old, she has her little grey chin coming in, it's a little tougher for her to wake up in the mornings, and she isn't quite as sprightly as she used to be. She's getting kinda deaf too. All part of the cycle of life.

Last week she was lying in her bed, and she yelped. It was without a doubt a yelp of sudden pain. But she seemed to get over it quickly and we moved on. A couple hours later while she was just walking from the living room to the kitchen, she yelped again. After the 3rd yelp, I did a cursory check with my non-vet eyes and decided that, given her age and history, I should just take her in to the vet and have them take a look in case I am missing something. Don't want my moose in pain if she doesn't need to be.

I drop her off for her appointment today, and headed into work. A couple hours later I get a call from the vet. She has some degenerative joint disease in her knees and that is likely what was causing her the pain. Nothing a few days without walks and some rimadil won't fix up. Awesome. "And by the way", the vet goes on to say, "where she was shot might be giving her some problems too." Me: Um...excuse me? The Vet: "You knew that she'd been shot, right"? Me: Um...NO!? Like, today?!" The Vet: "No, no, it's an old injury but there are a lot of little bullet fragments around the area of her left hip."

My first reaction is just a pain in my heart. I knew that Macy had likely been abused as a younger dog. I rescued her from a shelter when she was around 3 or 4. About a month after I had her, I was getting a little tired of her going into the trash can and knocking it over for scraps. When I finally caught her in the act, I had rolled up a newspaper and whacked it on the counter and shouted "Macy, NO"! Never touched her. Never intened to touch her, either. But whacking the newpaper on the counter caused her to curl up into a ball, skulk over to the door trying to get outside and she peed on herself. This was OBVIOUSLY a dog who had been beaten into submission. Broke my heart in two. I ran over to her and gave her kisses and loving and apologized for hitting the counter (really?). But I didn't care what impression I may have been giving. I called my sister in law for advice on what to do now (since Macy is my first dog in LIFE). She told me, Liss, she's a dog. Get a trash can that goes under your sink. Problem solved.

My second reaction today was anger. Anyone who knows my dog, knows how sweet and sorta helpless she is under pressure. Who would do that to a dog? Any dog? But especailly MY dog. A dog that I have grown to love an insane amount. Who loves me and loves Eric unconditionally. All she needs in return is pats and food.

As the vet was showing me the x-rays today of her hip and the bullet and all it's fragments were still there lodged in her body, the reaction of heartbreak and anger came together. But in the end, anger won.

If the chicken-shit ass hole who shot my Macy all those years ago is still alive, I hope that someone shoots you in both of your knees, rendering you unable to run from the pack of angry pitbulls who can smell your blood as it pools on the ground around you while you scream in agony and they show you what being a carnivore is truly about.

Being an introvert

2011-09-04T17:10:00.000-07:00

The other day I posted a status update on Facebook making mention of the fact that Facebook was great for us introverts. Because it allows us to interact with people without actually having to speak to them or be in the general vicinity of them. I don't quote this because it wasn't verbatim what I wrote, but close enough. The comments that were generated are what really surprised me, though.

I thought that most people who knew me realized that I was an introvert. I think that most people mistakenly assume that being an introvert was another way of saying "shy" or perhaps even as extreme as "anti-social". Neither of which are even remotely true. About me, or about anyone who is truly an introvert.

I stole these from Wikipedia: "Introverts are people whose energy tends to expand through reflection and dwindle during interaction". Oh yeah. All me. This one too: "...social networking sites have been a thriving home for introverts in the 21st century, where introverts are free from the formalities of social conduct and may become more comfortable blogging about personal feelings they would not otherwise disclose." Like, holy shit! I never read that prior to posting my status update. I just knew enough about myself to know it to be true. This one really brings it home: "Introversion is not the same as being shy or being a social outcast. Introverts prefer solitary activities over social ones, whereas shy people (who may be extraverts at heart) avoid social encounters out of fear, and the social outcast has little choice in the matter of his or her solitude." So there!

Introverts such as myself tend to not be people persons. I actually had a resume with that statement on it. "I am not a people person." I think it is pretty darn important that a potential employer knows that going in, because if they decide to put you in a customer service type of role, then they will find out pretty quickly anyhow and have no one to blame but themselves when things turn sour.

As an introvert, the time I spend with ME is truly wonderful. The time I spend with Eric is also wonderful, but I, as well as most introverts I imagine, do not require the presence of others to feel comfortable, secure, fulfilled or otherwise. Another advantage to being an introvert is that I can say with certainty that I have never felt lonely a day in my life. Ever. My mind is constantly engaged in thought. I theorize about everything. I am constantly working out things in my mind, coming up with answers to questions that I create. I am all about "why" and "how".

I will admit that although it has been several years now, that I didn't realize that I was an introvert until well into adulthood. It was during college when I took one of those Myers-Briggs tests for the first time when I realized that my personality-type actually fell into a 'category' at all. Most of my life I would just assume that everyone felt as I did and just faked it because that is what was socially acceptable. Ok, that wasn't the clearest sentence, so here is an example of what I mean.

Growing up friends would always want to go out to...wherever. A party, a club, a hockey game, other people's houses, wherever. I would go with when invited, because that's just what you did. But I would always be the one sitting, looking at the clock, wondering when an acceptable time to leave without appearing rude was going to be.

So back to my Myers-Briggs test...and forgive me as I think I have actually written about this before...but it tells you what your best professional fit might be to your personality category, and mine pretty much said that I needed to be a research scientist who worked alone on top of a remote mountain in Nepal. With the monkeys and whatnot. I distinctly remember being insulted at that answer but over the years, I realized that it was EXACTLY who I am. I would be willing to bet money that the majority of your scientists, researchers, philosophers, entrepreneurs, artists, and the like are introverts as well.

I feel like my introversion is a gift, quite honestly. It sure came in handy when I was deployed. When there was no TV, internet, or even power at times, my mind was a constant source of entertainment.

Seriously, though. I wish that more of my family had come to my defense when I wrote that status update. I think most felt I was being negative, but that wasn't the case at all. I was merely stating a fact. A fact about myself. One that I have learned to love and embrace! Lucky for me, Eric is a bit of an introvert as well. Not nearly as much as me, but enough so that he understands and loves me because of, and in spite of, it.

Too Much of a Good Thing

2011-07-31T08:45:00.000-07:00

Those who know me understand that I do a lot of picking at this small town for it's lack of, well, everything. Shopping, culture, food, you name it. I talk about how I would love to live somewhere that had, at the very least, a Macy's. Maybe an Olive Garden, too.

About an hour and a half/forty five minutes away we have Raleigh. We have been to several shows there (Jeff Dunham, Stomp, Shakespeare In The Park), and there is a Macaroni Grill that we enjoy. Even one of Eric's fast food favorites, Chipoltle. It is the perfect size city for my liking. Traffic isn't bad. There is also a GREAT spa called the Umstead (where I could EASILY spend the rest of my natural life). But as I said earlier, it is well over an hour away and not the kind of place you can go to during the week on a whim. Well, unless you are one of those people who can function regularly on 4 hours of sleep a night. Clearly I am not, nor have I ever been, one of those people.

This past week I was in Minnesota. I stayed in Saint Paul. I loved it there. One of the attractions in the Twin Cities area is the Mall of America in Minneapolis. I hopped the crosstown bus from downtown St Paul and went to the Mall of America with great excitement. Talk about everything I could ever want! A mall that had every store I could possibly want to shop in, restaurants that I love, and, get this...a ROLLER COASTER in the mall! I love roller coasters.

I walk into this mall and am quickly overwhelmed with everything that is happening around me. It was loud and hurried, and busy, and there wasn't just A roller coaster; there were 3. And a log flume. And a bunch of other stuff that made this place like an amusement park on crack.

I couldn't deal with it. 30 minutes. That was all I stayed for. I would have left sooner but I walked around for about 10 min, got lost immediately, and spent the next 20 minutes trying to find where the hell I came in. As I am beating feet for the next bus to downtown Saint Paul, I am asking myself over and over again, what the hell my problem is? I don't understand why this wasn't turning out to be a great thing. This was everything I asked for ten-fold!

That, I concluded, was the problem. I am all about small, controlled doses. This was complete retail/entertainment/roller coaster overload. *sigh*

So I am back in Goldsboro, NC. CLEARLY other extreme. But better for a person like me to be underwhelmed than overwhelmed. WAY better.

Time off

2011-07-20T16:40:00.000-07:00

I have been off of work for a little over three weeks now. I don't think I have ever been off for this many days in a row. In my life. Not even after surgery.

The first two weeks were filled with the wedding and honeymoon and the third week was just, well, time off. Going into this current week it has been more of the same.

I decided to use this week to drive down to Florida and visit with my sister and my aunt (who had some unexpected surgery and was unable to make it to the wedding) and it has been great. South Florida rules. Always has.

The things that I have enjoyed about these past two weeks are sort of surprising to me. Never much of a girly-girl, things like accessorizing have never held much appeal to me. Well, about two days before our honeymoon I bought a new purse. One of those "The Sak" purses in a neutral color to take with me on the honeymoon. It seems to have started there.

Next thing I know, I am wearing skirts, heels, necklaces, rings, sun hats, and LOVING it. The idea of going back to work and going back to that boring-ass black purse that I am forced to carry in the military actually makes me pout a little bit. I have really gotten used to my new purse and my palm tree necklace. And my pretty double Swarovski crystal rings in pink and white that match one of my new tops and skirts perfectly. See that? Who the hell just wrote that last sentence??

I knew that I didn't take enough time off after my deployment. I did that because I knew that I was going to be taking close to a month off for my wedding/honeymoon. I think perhaps that the deployment changed me. Some good ways, some not so good. But I like this new side of me.

I also know that once I go back to reality that not only am I not allowed to keep this up, but I won't have any desire to keep it up. It isn't worth coming home from a 10+ hour day to put on accessories and change purses for what amounts to an hour or two of free time in the evening before I have to go to bed.

I only hope that when I retire, perhaps I will remember this short time frame where I was able to discover a new side of me that I really like and feel comfortable being, and will still have the desire to try.

Bridal pictures

2011-06-19T15:14:00.000-07:00

Psyche!!!! No pictures for you! Well, not yet at least.

However, this past Tuesday we did my bridal pictures. Doing pictures of just the bride serves a couple of useful purposes. First, it reduces the total amount of time spent taking pictures on the day of the wedding. This is important because it means Eric and I will get to the reception, and by default, the food, faster. Second, it gives the bride an opportunity to do a full-dress dry run. Taking the pictures helped me get used to putting on and taking off the dress. I got to know how the dress worked, how the crinoline and bustier worked, and most importantly, how the dress worked on my body. I was actually afraid of the dress until this past Tuesday. Handling it with kid gloves, etc. However, I was pleasantly surprised to learn that as a heavy silk/satin gown, it can really take a beating!

Believe you me, it was tested on several levels. My photographer, Chad, is a very talented artist. He took us (and by "us" I mean Holly and myself. Holly did my hair for me and helped me in and out of the dress, in and out of different locations, and was a generally supportive human being!), all over the place for these pictures. We were in front of an old church, in a wheat field, at his studio, and on the street in the little town of LaGrange, NC.

While we were shooting in the wheat field, I was standing there in the middle of the wheat, actually enjoying myself and the breeze, as he took shot after shot. At the end of the shoot, Holly and I began the task of gathering up my dress to avoid having it drag on the ground. When we get the dress up, I look down and what do I see? A spider the size of Texas is running up my dress between the layers of tulle. Well...

Anyone who knows me, knows that one of my two fears on this planet is spiders (the other is water). Apparently neither Holly nor Chad (the photographer) liked spiders either because the next thing I know Holly drops her end of the dress and is a quarter mile down the road, I am in an absolute panic yelling at Chad who was the only one of the three of us with a penis to get the fucking spider off my dress while jumping up and down in heels in the middle of this wheat field.

I finally jump up and down enough for the spider to lose it's grip on the tulle and fall out onto the sheet I was standing on to protect the dress. Chad and I were trying to kill it as it is attempting to jump back up onto my dress. Chad finally shows this spider an untimely death and I am jumping through this wheat field with my dress practically over my head trying to make it back to the car.

I have since seen the pictures, and they are absolutely amazing. But make no mistake...I was about 1 more minute from dropping trou right there in the wheat field and turning my dress over to the spider. I would have had no problem just buying another dress if I had to.

Family!

2011-05-15T16:06:00.000-07:00

This weekend, Eric and I went up to Philadelphia, PA for the Bar Mitzvah of my cousin Miles. It was the first time seeing my family since coming back from deployment. I was anticipating this trip with such excitement that I lost sleep. And the end result didn't disappoint!

After a rough start to the drive in the form of a knocking engine/check engine light at the border of Virgina, having to turn around, go back home, get another car, and start the trip over again, (my reaction to this was less than stellar and I am shocked that Eric still wants to marry me) we were finally under way.

I found that I was unreasonably on edge for the first 24 hours. I am sure the faulty engine in my Audi didn't help, but I really believe the culprit was some weird just-getting-back-from-deployment thing that I can't quite put my finger on. I consciously worked on it and I managed to get almost back to myself. (Have I mentioned how amazing, patient and wonderful Eric is?)

The Bar Mitzvah itself was a wonderful, traditional Jewish ceremony at the temple (to the tune of 3 hours), and Miles, at the ripe old age of 13, was a true charmer to watch as he read from the Torah. He has a smile that could melt ice sculptures! You couldn't help but smile right along with him.

The party afterwards was in true Davidow Bar mitzvah style. Lots of food, entertainment, drinks, dancing, and HUGE family hugs! Seeing my cousins and my Aunt Pearl was just magnificent. Seeing my brother Chuck, however, was just fantastic. I can't quite put my finger on what exactly it was that took me on such a roller coaster emotionally, but it was a great ride.

The weekend was way too short to say the least and I found myself wishing we all had more time together to just sit and talk with no obligations or places to be. I have to make an effort to make that happen. Not just with Chuck, but with my cousins, sister, aunt, every one. Take a weekend that doesn't involve some grand family event and just make it about catching up.

My words can't do this weekend justice. So hopefully the pictures I am going to attempt to attach here will help give it some color!

A post-deployment...well...post.

2011-04-23T10:16:00.000-07:00

I am two weeks post deployment. I suppose the first thing I need to put out there is just how quickly things begin to disappear from your memory when you come back from deployment. Places I went, names of cities, and most disturbingly the names of people I worked with and lived with day in and day out for months on end have already begun their exodus from my memory bank. I suppose if memories were FDIC insured I wouldn't have to worry about writing all this down now. But alas they aren't.

Fortunately for me, I had the foresight to realize that things were going on that I knew I would want to remember or at least SHOULD remember, and I kept a journal. The journal is made up mostly of my in-the-moment rants. I actually haven't even read though all of them.

I was pretty fortunate in that I wasn't involved in any IEDs or other such traumatic events.

Pakistan however, is a dangerous place and being on edge and hypersensitive to your surroundings in order to avoid being blown up, shot at or otherwise attacked, takes it's toll. On that note, I have simply taken one of my journal entries and am using at as my blog.

Day 38: As I was walking outside to the guards to share with them my bounty from the care packages I received today, my routine thought process began. These thoughts cross my mind every day. Our guards are paid to protect us 24 hours a day.

I smile and greet them in Urdu. They smile back and eagerly reach out their hands to receive my meager armful of snacks and cookies from back home. It's a lot to them. They think my attempt at Urdu is cute. They love the American snacks of chocolates and chips. It makes me happy to give it to them. I know they are chilly and can get very cold at night. They have a thankless job and, much like our SF personnel at home, I like to show them some appreciation. I am empathetic towards those who work long, difficult hours. Always have been. It is in my nature. This leopard will not likely change her spots at this late stage.

They are armed to the teeth. Even so, they would be the first to die in a suicide bomb attack of our residence. I tend to think the best of people. I tend to feel safe. Safer than I should. There is not a single one of them who wouldn't turn around and kill me for the right price. Who wouldn't sell me, or any one of my colleagues out, for a week's salary. I, especially, probably offend them. What with my English tongue, the audacity to go out in public sans headscarf, and my driving. Not only do I drive, but I drive alone. A woman should only be in the back seat of a vehicle. A vehicle is driven only by a man. My every day actions are an insult to their entire way of life. I don't go about day to day with a goal of insulting my host nation's people. I have a job to do. As I turn and walk away after delivering the goodies, I wonder if today is the day I will hear the shot and feel the bullet in my back?

"Best Hamburger" my ass.

2011-04-17T18:07:00.000-07:00

In yet another glaring display of the public's sheep mentality, just because a bunch of people jump on the bandwagon of someone who says something is "great" or "the best", does NOT make it so. Tonight we went to a place called "Five Guys" burgers and I walked away extremely disappointed.

I had heard great comments from several people about how wonderful the hamburgers are at Five Guys. I even read a review (or two) that Five Guys was voted "Best Hamburger" in North Carolina. Needless to say, hopes were high.

In all fairness, I feel obligated at this point to share the start of my love-affair with a good quality hamburger. I like to compare burgers to a benchmark that was set for me years ago when I went to my first Fudruckers. I remember it like it was yesterday...1989, I walked into Fudruckers in West Palm Beach with my father, my Aunt Pearl, and my Uncle Dan. We go up to the counter and my uncle Dan promptly orders the "motherfucker" without so much as an apology (may he rest in peace), I order a burger exactly how I wanted it. Rare with mushrooms and nothing else. Always a sign of a great burger place. Being able to order it the temperature you want it. Means they use good quality meat. Did you know that? It's why you can't order a burger from McDonalds medium rare. They use barely-legal meat in their burgers. Cook 'em less than well done and you end up with lysteria or something else that I can't spell. I get my burger and it was amazing. Juicy, high quality meat without those little hard rubbery pieces floating around in it (you know what I am talking about..those little pieces that scream lousy meat pieces and fillers), fantastic hand mushrooms all seasoned to perfection and placed on a baked fresh bun that practically melted in your mouth.

So obviously with all the hype that preceded our visit today, at the very least I assumed that I could order the burger medium rare. We walk in and the first thing we see when we arrive at the counter is "We cook all our burgers to a juicy well-done". Another glaring example of saying something that just isn't true. It isn't actually possible to cook any piece of meat to "well-done" and still be "juicy". At that point I was ready to walk away. That sign screamed that their meat quality was lousy and I was too hungry to waste my money on something that I already knew was going to suck. But we stayed anyway. Perhaps I would be pleasantly surprised? We order our burgers and wait for the outcome.

Sure enough, this burger comes and I must say, the only thing that separated it from a hockey puck was the fact that it was nestled in a bun. One bite and I realized that McDonalds was actually better than this poor excuse for a hamburger. Little hard rubbery pieces scattered throughout the meat. Zero flavor. And, of course, zero juice. I was famished however and ate about 5 bites of the burger. Then I gave up the ghost. I left. Hungry.

I have not looked up the corporate or franchise history of Five Guys hamburgers but I cannot imagine these five guys would have become so monumentally successful cooking burgers like what I had tonight. Perhaps the nanny-state time we live in prevents them from serving anything that is cooked at a cooler temperature than well-done. Since no self-respecting meat-loving carnivore would ever cook their meat well-done, why would you waste high quality meat in a dish you were forced to cook well-done? At least that I what I hope happened here.

Either way, I am going on my own record to declare that I would never recommend getting a hamburger at Five Guys. Save your 5 bucks and get 5 burgers of the same lousy quality for the same price at McDonalds.

Things I will and wont miss from deployment

2011-03-28T20:59:00.000-07:00

Things I will NOT miss from deployment:

1. Being cold
2. Not having hot water
3. Sporadically having NO water
4. Not being able to go outside for a simple walk
5. Being hungry. Mostly on Sundays.
6. The fear and unknown of being on the roads (terrorists, IEDs, shootings, and idiots who shouldn't be allowed out of their houses at all let alone to operate anything with a motor)
7. The smell. This place smells like a cesspool.
8. The lack of value placed on human life (The It's-ok-if-my-kid-falls-off-my-motorbike-and-dies,-I-have-another-one attitude)
9. Missing home.
10. Pakistani Parasites (I saved this one for last because there was a slight yet significant upside of weight loss that accompanies them).

Things I WILL miss from deployment:

1. The look of the Himalayan foothills after a rain
2. Wearing civilian clothes every day
3. Seeing the occasional monkey hop across the road (yes, I have grown fond of the monkeys)
4. The people I have worked with. Every one of them a true character
5. Working for Special Operations Command.

I was hoping to come up with 10 things I will miss. Not happening. Perhaps later on once I have gotten some time and distance away from here I will be able to think of more. If I do, I will update my list!

First plane ride

2011-03-22T19:28:00.001-07:00

Another headline, another blog!

This time, I saw a headline that mentioned the impact your first plane ride has on the type of traveler you will be later on. It got me thinking about the first time I was ever on a plane.

I was 17 years old. That may have seemed old to a lot of people, but where I was from, that was pretty standard. There are probably people where I grew up who have STILL never been on a plane.

It wasn't for a lack of desire, mind you. I remember thinking that I always wanted to go somewhere on a plane. As a kid, my father would take us to the little Dutchess County airport where we would park on the side of the road right on the landing path of the "Command" commuter plane. We would sit on the hood of the car (a-la Wayne's World 20 years before that movie came out), and wait for it's approach. The plane, a huge, loud, clunky propeller plane that probably seated about 25 passengers or so, would come into sight way off in the distance. You could see it before you could hear it. As it got closer the familiar sound of the propellers got louder and louder and the plane got bigger and bigger, almost like it was growing right before your eyes. Us three kids would get all excited as thump of the propellers would begin to shake the car as it got closer. The key was to keep your eyes open the whole time. The closer it got to the runway, I would have sworn that it was going to hit our car and us along with it. I remember screaming "Daddy, daddy it's gonna land on us!!" And he would laugh and say "Keep looking up, Liss! Don't close your eyes!" My hands would finally fly up to cover my ears and I couldn't even hear myself scream with excitement (terror??) as the wheels crossed right over top of our car. We would watch the plane, cheering and clapping as the little plumes of smoke appeared as the wheels made contact with the runway. I am not sure there was ever a time when I didn't ask dad if we could go into the airport and just go for a ride in the plane. Show's how much I knew!

Fast forward to March of 1989. I am 17 years old and getting ready to move to Florida. We were leaving out of Newark, NJ on a morning flight. Dad told me that there would be a car coming to pick us up at the house at 6am. I said to him "A 'car'? Do you mean a limo"? He assured me that it was NOT a limo. Well, one quick phone call changed that. I requested a stretch limo with all the trimmings for us and paid for it myself. Needless to say it was a great trip to Newark. And it set the stage for this event that I had been waiting for my whole life. We get onto the plane and dad took the dreaded middle seat to make sure that I was able to sit by the window. My heart was beating out of my chest from the moment the plane started to back away from the gate. We were probably 4th or 5th in line for take off and as the pilot counted down our position I am not sure how I didn't come out of my skin. When the plane started to speed up I couldn't stop saying "Oh my god, oh my god! We're going SO fast!" The feeling in my stomach as the plane left the ground actually made me say "Wheee!!!!!!" My ears blocked up and the ground passed below us and as the plane banked it felt and looked like we were going to go upside down. This was by far the BEST ride I had ever been on in my life! Better than the Cyclone at Coney Island, even!

I knew going into it that I was going to love flying and that first flight didn't disappoint. I loved everything about that flight. Everything from the safety briefing, to the slight turbulence, to the peanuts, and the brilliance I saw in how they built neighborhoods as I had my face planted up against the window the whole time.

When we left Newark, it was about 30 degrees outside and there was snow on the ground. When we landed in Palm Beach, Florida, it was 76 degrees, sunny, and the palm trees were the most beautiful things I had ever seen. I felt like a rock star.

I loved that flight back then. I still love flying now. I still get excited during every takeoff and every landing. Perhaps it was late in life for a first flight, but thinking about it now, I wouldn't have wanted it any other way.

A year...

2011-02-12T20:00:00.000-08:00

It was one year ago today that Eric asked me to marry him. When I think about it I still get butterflies in my tummy! Valentines day is tomorrow and that he asked me so close to Valentines day really had nothing to do with Valentines day at all. I found out later on that night when we talked about it that he was planning on asking me the week before he ended up proposing.

He was supposed to come with me to a conference I had in Las Vegas and had planned on asking me to marry him then (he went to high school in Las Vegas so the area has meaning to him) but he ended up having to work and couldn't go. So we had planned a weekend away together as soon as I got back, but I ended up stuck in Las Vegas for two extra nights because we had a snow storm in Atlanta/Raleigh and all the flights were canceled (see that, everyone thinks that this year's weather in the southeast is so uniquely bad but we had the same level of storms almost to the exact day as last year. People just don't remember!). So when I made it back to NC he was finally able to propose. Poor guy! All his big plans kept getting spoiled!

Spending my deployment down-time thinking about the wedding really brightens my day. June is really right around the corner. I can't help but feel that a line from "When Harry Met Sally" is appropriate here: "When you realize that you want to spend the rest of your life with someone, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible."

The power of money

2011-02-06T06:44:00.000-08:00

I love the show Say Yes To The Dress. I loved it before I got engaged and love it even more now that I am getting married. Since my deployment I have been relegated to watching episodes that cost me $2.00 a piece, take a full 5 hours to download, and I watch them on my borrowed-from-Eric iphone's 2x3 inch screen. Don't care. Grateful to see it. Even if it is in miniature.

Tonight's show featured a bride-to-be who came in with her mom to shop for her dress. The bride-to-be had a set budget of $5,000. She was paying for her own dress. Props! Now, in what was a very generous gesture, her mother comes in to the dressing room with a gift box. Inside the gift box is literally a blank check. Her mother decided she wanted her daughter to have an unlimited budget and as a gift, decided to pay for her daughters dress.

She had already tried on a couple of dresses (prior to the blank check gift) and the dresses the bride liked weren't necessarily the ones her mom liked. And vice versa. Cut to one of the knowledgeable consultants, who have been doing this for years, and they say that it changes the playing field when mom (or anyone else) is paying for the dress. Suddenly, they have a say in what dress you ultimately chose. *Queue sound of needle scratching across record here!* EXCUSE ME?

I have gotten some fantastic one-liner money advice in my lifetime. Here are two examples: "Never invest anything that you are not willing to lose" (Thanks uncle Dan!)and "Always view money you give to family, friends, co-workers or anyone, as a gift that you will never see again." (Thanks dad!) Don't get me wrong, if you give money to someone and they come to you the next day to pay it back, don't turn it down. By all means accept it. But never EXPECT to see it again. I have seen first hand how money has come between friends, family, and others and ruin relationships. SO not worth it.

Over the years I have developed my own views about the giving of money. When you make a decision to give money away, be it to family, friends, or whomever, you also need to be willing to give up ANY say in how they spend it. If a family member comes to you and says, I need $50 to pay my electric bill or they are going to shut off my lights and you give them $50 and they turn around and spend it on beer and cigarettes, so be it. You can always decide to never give them money again. You are not their boss, you are not a bank, you are not their mother (ok, maybe you are their mother, but this is not applicable to a parent who is trying to TEACH fiscal responsibility to an 8 year old). Money should NEVER come with strings attached.

Watching this particular episode, I have no doubt that this mom REALLY just wanted to give her daughter a very generous gift. It made her feel good. But perhaps, in her mind, she thought that her opinion should count for something since she was now paying for the dress. THIS, I have a real problem with. If you were with me when I was shopping for my wedding dress and you generously offered to make my budget unlimited, but there was a stipulation that YOU had to be happy with the dress as well, I would thank you profusely and then graciously return your check.

The weeks are fast, but time is slow?

2011-02-03T08:00:00.000-08:00

I find it very odd how my concept of the passing time can differ so greatly. On the one hand, I really feel as if the WEEKS are going by quickly. Monday-Sunday seems to fly right by. But when I look at the calender, the total time spent here seems to stand still.

As I sit here tonight, listening to gunfire and eating a brownie I wonder if this is what it feels like to live in East L.A.? I hate the gunfire. I haven't gotten used to it. It makes me jump. I can tell it is not intended for us (right now), but I never know when that might change. It takes a toll to be stressed this regularly. I can feel it.

I am sure that my stress is no worse than anyone else's stress. The world today is a stressful place. You never know if you are going to lose your job (and subsequently your income/livelihood), and that is EXTREMELY stressful. Especially if you have a family. People have lost their life savings in the market during this recession and THAT is stressful too. What if they are 60 years old and lost it all? Not like they can go back to work and start over for the next 40 years to make up for it. Those are life-affecting stresses too.

I guess what I am trying to say is that although stress comes in different forms, when you feel it day after day it takes a toll no matter what kind of stress it is. I am looking forward to going home and transitioning from this environment back to my not-so-stressful one. I am also hoping that the time spent here as a whole catches up to the quick pace of the time spent week-to-week.

What happens when I go home?

2011-01-28T00:08:00.000-08:00

I have not written many posts regarding my deployment. That has actually been intentional. It isn't for a lack of great blog fodder, it is because I have a sensitive job and I would rather err on the side of caution than perhaps write about something that may compromise anyone. Don't get me wrong, I am not James Bond. But better to be safe than sorry.

That said, I have been doing a job that is pretty fricken useful for a lot of people. I have a purpose over here. Opinions on "big picture" aside, the folks that are here need what I am providing to them.

But what happens when I get home? I already knew going in that 90% of what I do at home is bullshit. I am working hard to try and reason it out in my head that I am putting effort into an AFSO21 meeting or some other such malarkey that can only be created by those who have no real mission and must justify their own existence with such drivel, because if I don't I will be unemployed.

I have been trying to build a mental bridge connecting something, ANYTHING, that I do day to day at home, that added any value to the service that I am providing here. I have found none. Nada. Zip. Believe me, I have REALLY looked. Even if just in some small way I could see that what I do back in the clinic directly impacts the mission I currently support. I used to be pretty good at finding that link. Explaining it to the young Airman who worked for me and paint a picture for them about how what they are doing that day adds value to the big picture mission.

But I believe at the job back at home we have lost our way. Lost sight of where our focus needs to be. Lost sight of the question "What value does what I am doing at this very moment add to the mission downrange?"

I am sure this isn't true for everyone. I can't just blanket-label all aspects of the military. I can only speak to what I know and the job I do when I am not deployed. I have long felt this way about the job I do at home, but even I didn't realize how right I was until I got downrange. I guess a part of me hoped I was wrong, but I wasn't.

I have to work. I have to stick this thing out for another 8 and a half years until I retire. I can't just quit. Especially not in this economy. I am grateful to have employment at all. Perhaps that is where I will have to dedicate my focus. The one that will get me through to the finish line while keeping my sanity in tact.

See that? Sometimes just banging it out on a keyboard helps me see the light...

"Coupons on a first date?"

2011-01-25T00:49:00.000-08:00

Y'all know me. I just love headlines. Then I like to just run with them, often times without even reading the accompanying article. Today's headline was no different. The headline said "Coupons on a first date"? At first, I thought "HOW TACKY! He better not break out coupons on our first date!" But then I thought (as I am getting better at doing as I get older,) well, so what if he used a coupon? If you are on a date with a guy who uses coupons, why would you want him to be something he isn't because he is on a date with you? Doesn't that just amount to his being fake?

I have always had a real problem with people putting on fronts. Pretending to be someone they aren't for the sake of appearances. I realize this is one of the biggest reasons I will not get ahead in this world, corporate or otherwise, but I stand true to who I am. I am the person who will call the baby ugly. Take it or leave it.

When it comes to dating, lord knows I am no expert. Eric is the first guy I had "dated" in over 10 years. However I am a pretty good listener and REALLY good at human nature. One thing I would hear time and time again from both men and women is that a person 'changed' once you began a relationship. "He used to make dinner for me, but he doesn't do it any more." "She would want to watch football with me on Sundays. Now suddenly she not only doesn't want to watch it, but she doesn't want ME to watch football either! WTF?"

I got news for you folks, the "change" was dating YOU. They were simply unable to keep up the act and slowly became themselves again. He wasn't the kind of guy who made dinners, and she never liked football to begin with. They were only doing these things to lead you to into believing they were something they weren't from the very beginning.

I was guilty of such things when I was much younger. 20 years ago I led a guy I was dating to believe I liked football. A disservice to myself that I have never repeated. I think, now that I am marrying a man with whom I was friends with before we ever started dating, I can totally relate to the concept of 'friends' making the best couples. There were never any periods of being on our best behavior for the sake of appearances for the other. I didn't wear makeup when we were just friends, and I didn't start wearing any when we became a couple. It took 3 trips to 3 different stores and a weeks worth of research before Eric decided on the right TV for his house. A little much, maybe, but that's ok. It's his TV. He can take whatever time he wants to research it.

I also wouldn't have cared if Eric broke out the coupon book when we went out to dinner after we started dating. If he was the coupon-type, I would have known that already. And that would have been fine by me.

Actual conversation...

2011-01-03T06:36:00.000-08:00

So this is an actual portion of an IM conversation between myself and my sweeter than honey, albeit ultra-geek fiance:

Eric: xoxo
Oh yeah, one more thing

me: yes baby?

Eric: meant to share this comic with you. This guy has some great geeky comics, so feel free to browse his site, but this christmas one was pretty good...though a warning, it's probably one only a computer geek can appreciate

me: Oh, this oughta be good...clicking now.

me: hmmm...

Is it a flow chart?

I don't get it.

I think you were right...only a computer geek could UNDERSTAND it. No matter what it was suppoesd to be, I can totally relate to his parents!

Eric: In comp sci, trees and heaps are technical terms for data structures, and would be drawn like they are in the comic lol!

me: Oh my.

Sending Email When You're Angry...

2010-12-27T07:43:00.001-08:00

As most people who know me realize, I am deployed right now. Things are not quite as easy when you are deployed as they are back home. There are many things that you just don't have regular access to and take for granted when you are home. Things like scanners, faxes, and reliable internet.

There is a system that myself and one other guy needs access to. It is not a big deal system or anything like that, just something we need that will make our jobs easier in the deployed location. There is a particular form that needed to be signed by three people in three different locations in two different countries in order to get this access. Fine. It took three days go get this done and sent back, even electronically, but we did it. Yay us.

Today, I get the following email:

Ilisa,

The copy that you sent was illegible and *** didn't want to accept it. Can
you please try to send me a clearer one? Thanks for trying.

Stan
************************************************************************************
As I am sure you can only imagine, here is the response I sent:

Stan,

I am not directing the following rant at you, obviously.

But are they SHITTING ME???? Do those people at *** KNOW where **** and I are??? They are lucky to have gotten ANYthing at all from us. It's not like we have faxes and scanners at our disposal whenever we want to use them. Neither **** nor I even have a dedicated workstation! I have to use my HOME laptop for half the shit I send out for crying out loud and I am LUCKY to have internet access at all! Half the time even THAT doesn't work!

I cannot believe that in a deployed situation, those people are going to give you shit and get anal about some administrative paper-pusher bullshit that was probably called out by someone who has to justify their existence somehow. Now *** and I, who aren't even in the same vicinity as one another, are going to be the ones forced to jump through hoops to get "legible" copies. IS THAT REALLY WHAT THEY ARE TELLING YOU??? My god!! It isn't like we are asking for the keys to Fort fucking Knox, here. Perhaps I will be better off sending the signed copies via CARRIER PIGEON.

************************************************************************************

Heavy heavy sigh. My public service announcement for the night...Don't send out emails when you're angry.

A night out!

2010-12-11T18:55:00.000-08:00

Last night I had to opportunity to eat out at a restaurant. The place is called Monal and it is located 3900 feet up in the Margalla Hills in Pakistan. It is the largest restaurant in the country and the scariest drive I have ever been on.

Growing up in NY, there was a place in New Paltz that took you though some mountain roads as you went up towards Kerhonkson. There was one spot in particular that had a hairpin turn. Used to be a test of driving skills to make your way up. Then I got here.

The almost 4,000 foot drive up the mountain was like the hairpin turn of New Paltz on crack. I had to pop my ears about 7 different times, and I believe that I came close to heart failure at several points along the way (both up and down the mountain). To say nothing of the wild boars, monkeys (yes, monkeys), and foxes running in the road.

When we finally arrived at Molan, and got past the guards with automatic rifles, it took my breath away. It was the most beautiful restaurant I had ever been too. It was almost completely outdoors and we chose to sit at the farthest edge of the seating area with a spectacular view of Islamabad at night.

The food was excellent. I had a chicken spinach crepe dish that was scrumptious. As the night went on, we were all quite cold, even though they had fire lamp heaters at our table. So once we were done with eating, we were pretty eager to get to the warmth of our vehicle. Personally I spent the walk to the car mentally preparing myself for the journey back down the mountain. Eeek! My hands were sweaty even before we were half way down. hee hee!

I wish I had some pictures for you, but it was dark outside and I didn't bring my camera. We do intend to go there again at some point and I will take my camera for sure when we do. You could probably google some pictures of the place too.

Dear Abby

2010-11-27T04:05:00.001-08:00

Yesterday I was reading the Dear Abby column in our local Stars and Stripes newspaper (which I enjoy reading when I am overseas) and while I will read it every day and 3 seconds after I am done with it the memory of the letters written are gone, yesterday's was different. I can't stop thinking about this letter.

A woman was writing in for some advice about her neighbors (on both sides of her home). The lots are tiny, separated by only the driveway and both sets of neighbors are smokers. They insist on throwing their cigarette butts into her yard. She has, until now, simply gone out with a trash bag and picked up the butts from her yard. I am thinking to myself as I am reading this, "Hell nah! You need to walk you ass over there and tell those nasty ass people to stop throwing their nasty ass butts into your yard!" The next part of her letter addresses my idea, although much less rudely. She said she had thought of saying something to them, but they are trouble makers and rather than stir up the pot, for the sake and safety of her two year old children who like to play in the front yard (and subsequently pick up cigarette butts and put them in their mouths which is where everything goes when you are two), she would rather not. The advice Dear Abby gave her was probably spot on. She told the writer (paraphrasing here) that she was smart not to confront the troublemaker neighbors. She needed to keep picking up the butts and just have her children play in the backyard with her keeping a close watch on them.

I was troubled by this on so many levels that I probably don't have the room to address all of it here. Now, normally I am a hard-ass when it comes to people popping out puppies that they can't afford to feed, clothe and shelter properly and safely. I am not really sure why I am feeling compassionate for this particular advice seeker. But I find her situation disheartening. To live in a place where you are forced to submit to the actions of others because you are too afraid for yourself and your family to ask that the people giving you issue refrain from doing so, must be just horrible. Her children can't go outside and play. I can't imagine what it would have been like as a child to not be allowed to go outside and play. My entire wonder-filled childhood memory bank is chock full of memories of me going off ALONE through the woods, the trails, or the streets and the shopping centers. Without fear. And I promise you that if my father even for one second feared for our safety he would never have allowed that wandering, or adventuring to take place. And we grew up dirt poor.

My very first home that I bought with my own money was a condo in what used to be a fairly upscale part of Ft Lauderdale called "Inverrary". Over the past several decades it went from owner-occupied condos to renters. Because renters generally bring down property values (people just don't care if they don't own it) in the majority of neighborhoods, my neighbors were no different. I was in my condo one day and some new renters (one of MANY horrible neighbors) had moved into the unit one floor below me. I would sit out on my terrace and smell the pot as it wafted upwards (i plead the 5th on my opinion of this particular item), but what really bothered me was their music. It was so loud it shook my condo constantly. All day and all night. I remember taking my bar stools that sat at my kitchen counter and slamming them on the floor (his ceiling) in the hopes that he would turn it down so I could sleep, but it never worked. Finally I got fed up one Saturday morning and I marched my ass down to his unit and banged on his door. He refused to answer so I banged and banged and finally kicked the door over and over again for close to an hour before he finally opened the door and said "WHAT??!!" Well, the guy that stood before me was about 6' 1", heroin thin, prison tattoos, and had gold teeth. I actually hesitated for a second, but my stubborn ass wasn't going to let this go after coming this far.

I proceeded to tell him that his f'n music and his f'n pot smoking were making my life miserable and if he didn't believe it that he needed to come up to my unit and listen to what it sounds like from there so he could see what the hell I was talking about. He told me he can't come up. I asked him why not and he proceeds to lift up the leg of his pants and show me the police monitor bracelet around his ankle. Charming. OK then. But after all that, he agreed to turn down his music. And he did it. I imagine that the ankle bracelet kept me sort of safe because he couldn't really come up and kill me in the middle of the night without risking the alarm going off at police headquarters, but still.

My point is, obviously you can't call the police on someone for throwing cigarette butts onto your lawn because that is just a waste of police resources. You can't just tell her to move because we all know in this day, it is just not always that simple. I suppose she could do what I did and risk the consequences of asking them to not throw their butts in her lawn any more. But if she or the neighbors come of as confrontational, she could be putting herself and her kids in danger. I don't know if I have any better advice than what Dear Abby gave her. But I do know that I feel for her and how horrible it must be to live in a bad situation day after day and never be able to find a way out. Very few people love their job so most people will look forward to coming home at night. They look to their home as a sanctuary and a break from their lives day to day. This woman doesn't have that. Going home is no better than going to work. Perhaps she tried and for her efforts she got stuck with lousy neighbors. I am pretty darn grateful that I am not in her situation today.

3 Lobsters In To a 12 Lobster Tour

2010-11-10T08:29:00.000-08:00

I arrived to this deployment on "lobster night". I had just gotten done with 34 hours of air travel, zero sleep and the feeling of dried salt on my cheeks from the tears cried after leaving the love of my life for the next 6 months. It was exactly 30 nights ago tonight.

After going through the drama of getting into the compound of my deployed location, and believe you me, it is DRAMA, I was finally met by the guy I replaced (whom I knew from several previous assignments) and we picked up the key to my bunk and went off to chow. As we were walking along in the dark, with the tiny desert rocks crunching beneath our feet, he says to me, "You got here on a good night. It's lobster night." I wasn't really thinking too seriously about what he said, because I really didn't know my own name by that point, but as we walked into the DFAC (military for chow hall), sure enough, there were lobster tails steaming away behind the counter. Mashed potato's and corn ON the cob too. I grabbed me a plate. This was fan-fricken-tastic. I don't have so much as a RED lobster where I live, but here I am. With real lobster tails on my plate. Oh, and lest I forget...drawn butter. GAWD!

As we sit down and I am stuffing my face with rockin' lobster I ask if we eat this good all the time? He tells me that lobster night is every other Wednesday and has been since he got there. Awesome.

A part of me is almost ashamed to admit how happy I have been since I got here. The food is good (even if it is not lobster every night) and the salad fixin's are always fresh, I have a room where I sleep that is in a solid building, I work in a place that has afforded me the opportunity to work directly with people that I would otherwise NEVER have the opportunity to work with in my career, and tonight was lobster night, yet again. What more could anyone ask? I clearly have it better than most who are deployed. Hell, I even have it better than those poor Spam-eatin' cruise ship passengers who are currently stranded out in the middle of the ocean.

Time is pretty relative. I think everyone who is deployed, happy or not, counts down the days until they can be back with the people they love again. While I am not a clock-watcher per se, I count down too. There are several ways that military people tick off the days on their calenders. Modern technology has made this pretty easy. There are several Excell spreadsheets out there that do it for you. "The Donut Of Freedom" "The Donut of Misery", "The Circle Of Freedom" etc. They all count down the days you have served, the days you have remaining, and as each day goes by a circle with a picture emerges. My picture turns from a desloate desert to a white sandy beach with each day.

But tonight as I was chatting with my love, happily telling him that it was lobster night, he was supporitvely cheerful right along with me and told me that I was now 3 lobster nights in to at 12 lobster night tour. I like his countdown clock the best. Only 9 more lobster nights to go!

Standing out

2010-10-24T08:40:00.000-07:00

I am a pretty happy person. I tend to be optimistic, although realistic, about life in general. As such, a few weeks prior to my deployment I started to get my head in the right place. Thinking about all the good things and postivie things that were going to come from this experience. One of those things, which may seem minor to some, is that I got to be away from any children for a full 6 months. That has been great. Love it.

However, being someplace without any children has one drawback that I never saw comming. When I (meaning me in particular) am someplace where there are no children, I become the smallest thing walking around the joint. When I first got here, people would stare and laugh and I didn't quite understand why. I was very self-concious. Was my reflective belt on wrong? Did my PT shose have too much pink in them? Am I walking crooked? I had no idea what was wrong and I was none too happy about it.

Then a few days ago I was standing by a sink, washing my hands, and two army women were standing next to me. I hear the all too familiar giggling and one of them say "No, don't say anything to her!" and the other, much to the dismay of her friend says to me, "I am sooo sorry to stare, but I just have to ask...how short are you?" So that's it. Got it. "4 feet 9 inches." I smile as I walk away listening to the "Oh my god" and "Wow!" as I go.

Since then, many more people than I ever really imagined would even care have acutally stopped staring long enough to ask me the same question. I am not sure why they all have asked me how "short" I am as opposed to how "tall" I am. It used to be "tall". Maybe it is an army thing. I don't think anyone in the Air Force has asked yet. I have gotten pretty good at deciphering when people are laughing at me as opposed to just laughing in general when I walk by. Sometimes I will just say "4 foot 9" as I am walking and I will hear the table of 4, 5, or 6 people bust up laughing with "Damn! She heard you!" or whatever else they might be saying.

I have always had a pretty good sense of humor about my height. It's good to know they are staring at me because I am short and it wasn't that my reflective belt was all askew or something tragic like that.

Hashimoto's

2010-10-02T10:18:00.000-07:00

If you are like me, you probably thought that Hashimoto's was just was me misspelling an atomic bomb location in Japan. However, it is not. Hashimoto's is an auto-immune disorder. Named for the physician who first discovered it. From my readings (as a non-medical professional), an autoimmune disorder is when your body turns on itself. Your immune system attacks an otherwise healthy organ (or something) as if it is an enemy and tries to destroy it. In the case of Hashimoto's, your body's organ of choice is your thyroid.

Hashimoto's itself does not cause symptoms. What causes symptoms is the destruction of your thyroid. As your thyroid is being attacked it's function slows down, and your symptoms are those of a thyroid which can no longer function effectively because it has come under attack (it is a losing fight). THOSE symptoms sucks socks.

For years I figured these symptoms were just a fluke and would go away on their own eventually. Maybe if I changed my diet and exercised more, life would improve. After all, that is the answer to everything now a days, right? Diet and exercise. I gave it a shot. For several years. I began to think, maybe if I step out of my house with the right foot instead of my left foot every morning, things would improve (A joke, people. Come on.). Sometimes, as is the case with Hashimoto's, my thyroid would kick into gear and I would drop weight suddenly and my hair would stop falling out, and my need to sleep during the day finally went away and I would think FINALLY the exercise and fewer calories are starting to work! Then, just as suddenly as it came on, it would go away. I knew I wasn't doing anything differently. Still, I blamed myself. Where else could I look to blame, right?

When I was first told that I had this I figured no big deal. I was grateful that my provider was astute enough to actually LOOK for it and run a test specifically for Hashimoto's (none of which I knew she did until I had an appointment to go over the results). If nothing else, I felt somewhat validated because it put a real reason why all my working out and eating less had not resulted in weight loss (and actually I gained weight. A LOT OF IT). She put me on medication and I fully expected my life (and my weight) would just return to normal. Boy was I wrong.

You would not believe all the things your thyroid does. It plays a significant role in several of your body's functions. Your metabolism (and not in a good way as explained above), your body temperature (unless you really enjoy being cold all the time, this is not in a good way either), your energy level (unless you really didn't have anything better to do during the day than sleep because you just can't stay awake, this one pretty much sucks too). And several other things that simply cause vanity woes (pale skin, hair falling out, eyebrows fall out, etc.). From what I have read, many people suffer from depression with this as well. I am NOT one of those unlucky ones. Don't get me wrong, I am fat, cold, uncomfortable and sleepy all the time, but I am still a happy person. I swear I am!

I am not an activist, or a commiserative person, really. I think I just needed to write it out. Now that I am about 7 months into this, and the reality that my symptoms may never go away, I am angry about it. Not angry about LIFE, just about Hashimoto's.

I am leaving for deployment in the next couple of weeks and when I get back, I am going to try an alternative, homeopathic medication, to see if I can get symptom relief. I am really looking forward to giving it a shot. Of course, I am an optimist anyway, so I always think the 'next' thing I try is going to work. I have faith!! This time, it is going to work! It IS going to work...right?

Crime and punishment

2010-08-08T06:32:00.000-07:00

Getting a ticket sucks. Based on that statement, you would think that I am about to gripe about having just gotten a ticket. However, I am not. I didn't get a ticket. Didn't even get pulled over.

But Eric and I were driving down the highway and saw some poor guy who did get pulled over and it got me thinking. I am sure that what I am about to talk about is not a new thought. It is probably as old as getting tickets themselves, but I am a little slower than the average bear so I am just now putting two and two together.

The punishment for getting a ticket does not fit the crime. Not even close. The punishment for getting a ticket is so much worse than the 'crime' of speeding that I cannot believe that they are still allowed to hand out such punishments willy-nilly.

Think about this for a moment. You are driving down a road where the speed limit is 60. You are cruising along at, say 69 MPH. Criminal! Yes, here in NC they will pull you over in a heartbeat for going 5-10 MPH over the speed limit. You look in your rear view mirror and see those dastardly blue lights. Which might actually be pretty if it weren't for the message they are giving you.

You give the trooper your best plea for mercy. "But officer, my dog bit me and I have ice cream in the back seat and I lost my job and had a fight with my husband and the economy has me stressed and Kagen is now on the Supreme Court and it made me sleep late this morning and I couldn't get to Starbucks before 7am..." All this pleading because you were going 9 MPH over the speed limit. You criminal.

But do you know WHY you are pleading? You are pleading with the probably really hot, but effin' heartless trooper because you know you are going to PAY for this ticket. You are going to pay dearly. The ticket you are now holding in your pissed off little digits is going to haunt you. FOR YEARS.

You will not only be paying well over $100 dollars for the ticket itself, but you will likely decide to go to court to try and get the ticket thrown out. Maybe the cop wont show up! Yeah! No WAY he'll show up! Guess what? He doesn't have to show up. Now you don't just have to pay for the ticket but you have to pay for court costs too. Now your cost is up to $224. Sigh. But wait...there's more...about 3 months later, when you have forgotten that you even got pulled over, you get a notice from your insurance company that your rates are going up by 25% because you were speeding. For the next 3 years. It would have been 35% but since you were doing less than 10 MPH over the speed limit they are going to cut you a break. Oh THANK YOU dear insurance company!

So, for going 9 MPH over the speed limit, when you figure in all the costs to include the increase in your insurance premiums, you are out well over $1000 dollars and on probation for 3 years. And that ticket stays on your record and follows you around for countless years afterwards.

Penalty for possession of 1 ounce of marijuana in the state of Colorado: "One ounce or less is a petty offense that requires a court appearance but with no incarceration and a maximum fine of $100."

How does that feel, you criminal?

Am I the problem?

2010-07-18T06:13:00.000-07:00

I don't drink alcohol. It isn't some religious extremist declaration or anything. I don't like the smell of it, I don't like the taste of it, and most importantly my system doesn't react well to it. And not in a that's-what-happens-when-you-drink-too-much way, smart asses. I get very ill from very small amounts. As in, less than half a glass small.

With that in mind, it should be no surprise that it is only on the rare occasion that I buy alcohol either. My fiance Eric, on the other hand, has a passion for the hops. His taste in brew is as eclectic and far reaching as pallet of the most passionate wine connoisseur. Or, like I am with steak. :)

While Eric is deployed, he doesn't get to drink at all. So when he is just about to come home, I like to make sure he has a little somethin' somethin' in his fridge. I stock him up on the diet Dr. Pepper, make sure the tank on the gas grill is full, and I buy at least a little of one of the beer's that he likes.

So I go to Target today. And, surprise surprise, they happen to have the beer I was looking for on their shelves! Bonus! So I go up to the register with my milk, bread, liquid plumber and the beer. The cashier looks at it and says "Is that alcohol?". I say yes it is. And I get momentarily excited because I think this is going to be a you-look-too-young-to-buy-liquor conversation. However, my mood quickly heads south when she says to me "Blue Law". I didn't understand what she said so I asked her to repeat it. Again, she says "Blue Law". I am standing there, clueless, and she apparently picked up on my confusion. She says to me "You must not be from North Carolina. It is against the law to sell alcohol to anyone before 2pm on Sundays." I was shocked. I am standing there with my mouth open, feeling like some derelict, raging alcoholic, who was trying to pull a fast one in defiance of some right-wing religious extremist North Carolina law. Trust me, that is exactly the look she was giving me, too. Poor little raging alcoholic. So addicted to the poison that she has to have it before 2pm on a Sunday. Tsk tsk tsk.

Of all the people in the world to make that mistake, it has to be me, right? The one freakin' person in this state who never drinks anything, never buys alcohol, and generally speaking really can't stand people who do, I am the one who gets busted, and subsequently denied, trying to buy it.

What's worse is I actually FELT embarrassed and ashamed! Then I was pissed off at myself for feeling like that! I don't have anything to be ashamed about! All I wanted to do was buy something special for my fiance who is coming back from the war and deserves to have it waiting for him when he gets home! Am I wrong, here? Is it just me who feels like the fact that a law like that even exists is just effin' stupid?

Try this one, North Carolina (and any other effin' state that has the same kind of stupid law), if a person wants to drink themselves to death before 2pm on a Sunday, it ain't up to you to save 'em. Let Darwin take care of their liver damaged sorry asses. But don't tell me when I can and can't buy alcohol.

The Dream of Independence

2010-07-12T15:53:00.000-07:00

For my entire life I have worked. I have worked FOR someone since I was 12 years old. Forever dependent on someone else to pay my salary so that I can live in the lifestyle to which I have become accustomed. And love my life, I do.

I grew up with a father who was determined to be his own boss. As someone who worked for him, I saw the struggles which never seemed to end. I did the bookkeeping for his plastics/decorating business starting when I was, as I said earlier, 12 years old. Even at that young age, I had a grasp on how hard it was for him to make ends meet. His business was a tough one. His product didn't sell itself by any stretch of the imagination. It was a constant struggle for sales. Cold calls, long hours, zero benefit. As a result, I always swore I would never go into business for myself. I knew very early on that I was NOT a salesman. I knew that I could never work at a job that was straight commission. Hell, I didn't even want to work in a job that was PART commission. I have a fear of being without a paycheck. As such, I had sort of resigned myself to the fact that I was going to have to be someone else's bitch for the rest of my life. Good enough. Or was it?

The older I get, the more I realize that working FOR someone sucks. A lot. I have always been independent, and I resent the fact that I am dependent on someone else for my money.

A couple of years ago I made a decision that once I am out of the military I will never work for anyone again. I (we) will own our own business, be it a franchise or something else. It has changed my perspective. Sometimes, when I am having a lousy day at work, and I think about throwing in the military towel, I remember my promise to myself never to work for anyone again. It makes me smile, but it also keeps me grounded. I can't just leave the military because I can't afford to (resentment enters here). I will not do it until I can fulfill the promise to myself to never work for someone else again. But it is going to take nine more years until I will be able to get out with a full retirement and benefits for the rest of my life. THEN, when I buy our franchise or whatever else it may be, and I fail miserably, I will still have a paycheck to fall back on. But I won't be dependent on someone else. Ever again.

Outback Steakhouse disapoints...again

2010-06-25T17:08:00.000-07:00

Anyone who knows me knows that I love Outback Steakhouse. I eat at Outback at least twice a week. I am a bit of a steak snob having been to many fantastic steak houses in the country (and around the world for that matter)and been fortunate enough to have tasted some of the best filets out there.

With all that said, I was always so thrilled with the quality of steak (namely the filet) that I would get at an Outback. This was surprising because not only is it a family place, but it is a CHAIN! The same can be said for Ruth's Chris, I suppose (minus the family for the most part), but that is a different caliber of restaurant and one would expect to get great steak for the price you pay at a Ruth's Chris.

But Outback was one of those restaurants that I could go to anywhere I may travel and get the same quality every time. Same great salad, same great bread, same great filets.

Being in the military, I move around a lot, sometimes for 3 years, sometimes for 3 months. No matter where I end up, one of the first things I did was look up the nearest Outback. Coming here to Goldsboro, North Carolina was no different. Sure enough, there was an Outback here and I was SO happy. Mostly because this is a really tiny town and the choices of places to eat are few. Places for decent steak...even fewer.

Over the past 3 or 4 months, the quality of everything from the bread, to the salad, and especially the steak has just gotten worse and worse. They changed the type of salad they use from what used to be fresh, to what tastes like a bag salad with dry carrot slices and purple shredded cabbage. Yucko! The honey wheat bread, which was always very good, has been coming out less than hot to downright cold. When we ask for new bread, what comes out is not all that much better. The steaks are what really let down, though. I used to get a consistent, tender filet that I could quite literally cut with my fork. Now, only about 1 out of every 7 or 8 times I visit is the steak good enough for me to really enjoy. I feel badly sending it back every time, because what comes back is never much better so I stopped sending it back. I keep ordering it though because I am always so hopeful that they will come through for me this time.

I am even a member of Outback Rewards and then I fill out those surveys (that give you a free bloomin' Onion for filling out!) and I always tell them about the issues. It has not improved.

I hate to think this, but I don't want to go back to Outback anymore. That bothers me because when it is good it is SO good! I always make sure on Outback days that I don't eat lunch. That way me (and even the people I go with) are nice and hungry by the time we get there. But I really think I only have a few more chances left in my heart for you dear Outback. I really don't want to start learning how to cook my own steak. That borders on sac-relig.

Anyone else having the same experience I am?

Thoughts on Mother's day

2010-05-09T14:53:00.001-07:00

Eric and I went to a mall in Raleigh this afternoon to meet with/interview a DJ for our wedding. While there I couldn't help but notice just how many men were out at the mall with children in tow, sans women. Enough for me, a person who makes it a point NOT to notice much of anything dealing with children, to notice the oddity. I began to wonder if it was just a fluke. Perhaps today was National Chester-the-molester-takes-their-kid-to-the-mall day. I then remembered it was Mother's day. Funny how all a mother seems to want on this Mother's day is to NOT be a mother. Not deal with their kids. Not cook any meals. Not do any of the things for which this day was invented to give thanks for. Get rid of the kids, pawn them off on anyone willing to take 'em, right? Well good for you. Hear that silence? Feel the peace within the walls of your home as you drift easily out from your slumber and start your day with the peaceful tranquility that can only be achieved by having a house free from children. Ahhh....welcome to my world. I get that every single day. Jealous much?

In all seriousness, I know enough about what a mother has to go through to be a successful parent to know that there is no way in hell that you would ever catch me doing it. There are some people who would call me selfish, but make no mistake, there is ZERO selfish about taking care of oneself. No one else is going to do it. Selfish is having children then being unwilling to do what it takes to be an effective, loving parent.

I find it hard to believe that it has been 12 years since my own mom passed away. This was a woman who successfully and lovingly raised two children of her own to adulthood, then turned around and married a man with three young children and adopted us as her own. This is the woman who had already gone through the years of making chicken soup from scratch to ease the tummy of her sick little ones, to start doing it all over again. This was a woman who already dealt with first periods, first dates, broken hearts and broken bones. This was a woman who had already broken up countless sibling fights, cooked countless homemade meals and cleaned countless sinks full of dishes to turn around and go practically back to the starting line to do it all again with my brother my sister and myself. And she did it with such passion, gusto, and love, that it never once occurred to me that she never had to do any of it. I think of my mom every single day. I am thankful to have had her for the years that I did. Most of all I am eternally grateful for the mother that she was, but especially for the mom she didn't have to be. I love you mom. And give a shout out to dad for me too.

Suggestion for restaurants...

2010-04-20T13:04:00.000-07:00

Those who know me know that I have an aversion to disruptive children. What a parent may tune out, the rest of the world is still subjected to and I think it is important to never lose sight of basic consideration for others in public places like restaurants. Becoming a parent does not exempt you from this basic rule of etiquette. While I understand that there are some children that are very well behaved in restaurants, (these are the ones you don't even know are there), there are also way too many who's parents should know better. And judging from the restaurant we are dining in should be able to afford a sitter for the night.

So since it is not reasonable for me to hope that a law banning children from restaurants (other than perhaps fast food types), will soon be passed, I have a different proposal for the restaurant industry. Now that the majority of states have banned smoking in all restaurants, the host/hostess no longer has to ask a patron "Would you prefer smoking or non-smoking?", so how about they replace it with the question "Children or no children"? and have a separate section specifically for families with children! See?? Everyone wins!

Far be it for me to complain without presenting an alternative solution.

The Soapbox returns

2010-04-10T17:33:00.001-07:00

There is a story in the news this week about a teenage girl who committed suicide. Very sad. Looked like a beautiful young lady by her picture. Her parents (I am assuming) feel that the harassment she suffered at the hands of other teenage girls were the cause of her taking her own life. This has spawned a lawsuit against the teenagers who were harassing her in the weeks prior and leading up to the day she took her own life.

I am a huge believer in being the master of your own destiny. People never, ever, commit suicide due to the actions of another. People commit suicide because THEY do not have the ability to deal with their problems in a different way. Children and teens are not exempt from this.

Take heartbreak for example. If the person you love breaks your heart and you commit suicide, is that really the fault of the person who broke your heart? Or is it YOUR fault for not being able to deal with the pain of the heartbreak? Arguably, heartbreak is one of the worst kinds of pain a person can feel in their life and it is a test of endurance to be able to come through on the other side. But no matter how bad the pain is, how each person deals with it is entirely their responsibility. If they learn something from the experience and grow stronger from the process then good for them. If they find that the despair is too much and they commit suicide, then bad on them. But just as you have to give credit to someone who comes through pain and adversity a stronger person, you must lay blame on the same person who takes their own life. This is because it was their decision.

Parents are shouldered with the responsibility of making sure their kids have the tools necessary to deal with life issues as they come up, but even with that, even the best parent can only do so much. If a child commits suicide, it isn't the fault of the parents. As I said before, children and teens are not exempt from being the masters of their own destinies. Suicide is a highly personal choice and no matter how badly a person is treated by another, harassed by another, or had their heart broken by another, it still comes down to a personal choice to live or to die.

The fact the the teenage girls who were harassing this poor kid are horrible, awful, bully bitches who should probably be sent to a North Korean labor camp for some retributional bullying of their own is a different story all together.

Wedding dress

2010-03-27T11:57:00.000-07:00

I bought my wedding dress yesterday. So let me get this out of the way up front. I am not going to post a picture of the wedding dress that I bought. This is because I just don't want to risk Eric seeing it by mistake. I may be an old bride, but I believe there is something fundamentally special about your husband-to-be seeing you in your dress for the first time on your wedding day. Getting married/having a wedding is an experience that I never predicted for my life and I am really going to stick with the traditional (as much as it can be without appearing foolish for a woman my age).

The experience of buying the dress was everything I had hoped it would be. Considering that I never really ever thought about getting married, I didn't have any preconceived wishes for what I wanted my wedding dress to look like. This is probably both a good thing and a bad thing. No expectations, but no good ideas either. I had two girlfriends with me and that was a GOOD thing. They were both supportive and gave me eyes that I didn't have. They also knew when to stop me. Basically at the dress that made me go "Oh my god" as I looked in the mirror. This was my dress. It had no price tag (as was the case with almost all of the dresses that were appealing to my eye), and perhaps there have been too many episodes of "Say Yes To The Dress" in recent weeks, and that terrified me. Say Yes To The Dress Rule #1, never ever try on a dress unless you know you can afford it because without a doubt, that will be the dress you fall in love with and have to mortgage your home to own. But I was pleasantly surprised at the cost of this amazing Casablanca gown. And afford it, I could. And buy it, I did. I thought lovingly of my mom for a moment or two who passed away almost 12 years ago, and knew she would have absolutely loved this dress and being with me for the shopping. I am sorry I missed out on that part of the experience but I don't think I could have asked for a better day or a better result. I know she was looking down at me, and giving her approval.

The rest of the world will just have to wait until June of 2011 to see it.

Nice and Not Nice...

2010-02-25T14:31:00.000-08:00

So today I read a headline off of CNN (I think) and it said “Big Banks Try To Make Nice”. I will admit that I didn’t read the article. I am just arrogant and judgmental enough to believe I didn’t need to. I have been in that situation and have had my opinions for many years now.

My philosophy has always been rather simple when it comes to “making nice” or being respectful in general. My phrase of choice to describe my feelings is this: A person who is nice to you, but not nice to the waiter, is not a nice person.

This can be applied to many different areas of concern, banking being one of them. Back in the day when I was a poor hard working minion, I couldn’t afford to bank with a big bank. Weather it was First Union, Wachovia, Bank of America (for whom I even worked for 6 years), or countless others. If you didn’t have $X amount of collateral, assets or worth, they would charge you exorbitant fees to utilize their holier-than-thou services. Services that the upper financial class got for free. As a logical person, this made no sense to me. You are charging the people who are just starting out or having a difficult time financially and who are the ones who obviously cannot afford it, and yet you are giving the services away for free to those who could easily afford to pay for them.

As I got older I began to understand the logic that the banking industry used in choosing the threshold at which they charged for services and that at which they didn’t, I am a business major after all. But understanding it never got me any closer to agreeing with it. To this day I think it is a low-down dirty shame.

My turning point came one day about 15 years ago when I did my banking with First Union. I had about $17 in that account. Money was tighter than my jeans after a Friendly’s ice cream sundae with peanut butter and hot fudge topping. Every month I was charged a fee for not maintaining a minimum balance and every month I hated that they took that fee right out of my account. Well that month the fee was $18 and they took my very last dime. In addition to 10 other dimes that I didn’t have. I had to borrow $20 from my sister and pawn my keyboard to pay for gas to get to work. It was the only time I ever borrowed money from any one in my life. I would have managed to get to my next payday had they not taken that “maintenance” fee.

Several years later and no longer a person who lived paycheck to paycheck, I opened an account with USAA. I opened it with $25. Just as a test, really. It is a huge hassle to change bank accounts and I didn’t want to make a decision I was going to regret later. Well it was the best decision I ever made. This was a bank that worked with me before I got on my financial feet and you better believe I developed a rockin relationship with them after I got there. From one checking account with $25 in it to nine different accounts from Checking and Savings to IRAs (ROTH and Traditional), to both of my houses and so on.

So to the big banks that are now trying to ‘make nice’ I say this: I am reminded of a line uttered by Julia Robert’s character in Pretty Woman: “Big mistake. Huge.”

The Rest of My Life

2010-02-24T15:26:00.000-08:00

I am engaged. A week an a half into my engagement and I am finally posting about it. It isn't that I didn't think about posting about it, but to be honest, we have just been flying on a cloud since he asked (and I said yes) that it just slipped past my usually diligent fingers. Well, that and working my tail off this week which included one 26 (yes that would be TWENTY-SIX) hour day. I suppose technically that is TWO days but hey, semantics. When no sleep is involved the days blend together.

In the past week and a half it seems like my thoughts are all about having a wedding. This is something that I never anticipated in my life. I had never even looked at wedding dresses before. And did you know they have entire magazines dedicated to nothing but brides and weddings?? So I have been trolling the Internet looking at wedding dresses, bought two magazines and was given one magazine by a wonderful coworker. I have discovered a couple of things in this wedding dress process. First of all, I have pretty consistent taste in designers (Casablanca, Alfred Angelo, Demitrios) and second, wedding gown sizes are enough to drive an otherwise sane woman to homicide. The saving grace to the second is that larger size than I have ever worn aside, a Casablanca gown looks magnificent on me. And looking at wedding dresses...holy canoli it's a LOT of fun!

I am really looking forward to having my crew here with me when I try on the final 5 contenders.

Even MORE than that I am so looking forward to spending the rest of my life with the man of my dreams.

Vegas

2010-02-07T16:53:00.000-08:00

I admit that what I am about to say may not go over very well with most people. I have a business trip coming up this week to Las Vegas and I am just not looking forward to it. I know. Who in their right mind would NOT be looking forward to a business trip to Vegas?? Well, I have to say, when you're me, you'd understand.

You see, I am not a drinker (not in an on-the-wagon, in recovery sort of way, just don't enjoy alcohol), I am not into gambling, and while I enjoy good food, it is pretty much wasted on someone who only eats enough to feed a bird. If Eric were with me, at least he could finish what I don't.

I suppose I could go to a show or two. I do enjoy shows. But again, while I am completely comfortable doing things by myself, it would be much more enjoyable if, when spending that kind of money for high quality entertainment, that I was with Eric or ANYONE who I actually know and/or love.

Eric was supposed to join me on this trip. Spend time doing whatever he likes to do (since he went to high school there and still has some connections in the area) during the day and join me in the evenings when I was done doing the obligatory business-y things but work got in the way (curse that mortgage that must be paid!).

I am not one to be totally negative, though. There is, after all, one really good thing about Vegas...the SPA!!!! I guess I will just have to suffer though some really good massages while I am there. Oh...and I think there is a Tiffany's too. Perhaps I can peruse the shelves of that little treasure chest...

And just like that, I am looking forward to the trip again. Woot!

Happiness is a warm puppy...

2010-01-25T18:11:00.000-08:00

Ok, so the title of this post is a blatant thievery from a Peanuts cartoon. So what? It sums up my evening perfectly. Now I realize that my puppy, Miss Macy Moo is HARDLY a puppy. She is an 88 pound 9 year old Greater Swiss Mountain/Rott mix. But we have a connection, her and I. We have a routine. We sit home in the evenings, I brew some tea, pop some popcorn and her and I watch some A&E or Discovery channel. We share the popcorn, she shares my lap and I believe the both of us are about as content as we can be. Happiness really is a warm puppy to share an evening with.

Unhappy

2010-01-24T10:00:00.000-08:00

It is a rare thing to find a person who does what they love for a living. Or is it? How many people do you know who can honestly say that they love going to work every day? I happen to know quite a few people who absolutely love what they do. Totally jealous, by the way.

Then there are those like me who love getting paid, but loathe their job. I suppose I have no one to blame but myself. You can't do a job you didn't apply for, right? Now I know the economy is in the dirt, blah blah blah. This is not about the economy (Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs, people.) This is about the feeling of dread that comes each Sunday. That feeling that if work was supposed to be enjoyable, they would call it a hobby and charge you to do it. That feeling that you try day after day to fight through to find the positive: "I work with great people". "The money more than pays the bills". "I am grateful to have a job at all". All of which apply to me. And none of which make the WORK any better. This hasn't always been the case during my years in the military. Just this particular job.

Perhaps someday there will be a job out there for a sushi taster or a chocolate eater or a racquetball learner that I could apply for. But until that time, I suppose I will just have to keep going and do the best job I know how while fighting the unhappy Sundays that always seem to keep coming.

At least there is happiness in knowing that when I retire from the military in 9 years, 10 months and 8 days from now, Eric and I will buy our own franchise and we will never have to work FOR anyone again.

Thoughts from the last decade...

2010-01-02T18:09:00.000-08:00

There were many things about this last decade that stick out in our minds. The obvious one being 9/11. While I remember all the same things that the rest of you do, (where I was, what I was doing, etc.), the thought that sticks with me the most with regard to 9/11 is the fact that I am of the age where I do not remember a time when the World Trade Center towers weren't there (I was born in 1971 and the towers were completed in 1972), but the kids born that day and after will never know a time when the towers WERE there. The top of tower 2 was my favorite place on the planet and will not likely be replaced any time soon.

On the other side of 9/11 though was a momentous occasion, and that was the turn of the old century into the new. Not too many people get to experience a turn of centuries. I spent my New Year's Eve, 1999, at a garden party at the house of a friend of a friend who's name I can't even remember, on the intercoastal of Miami complete with ice sculptures, sushi boats and Saigon Kick (had a hit song or two in the 80's to include the rock ballad "Love Is On The Way"). I shared the stage with them for a song. One of life's cooler moments to be sure. It was also the decade when I bought my first house (4 more would follow), graduated from college (which I never thought I would ever do in a million years), got to wear the title of Assistant Vice President while at Bank Of America, started and dropped out of Law School, came back into the military, and adopted my first dog who, to this day, brings a joy into my life I never imagined possible.

It was also the decade I turned 30, which I thought was the coolest age ever. On the down side, it is the decade when I became obsessed with my weight, which is a side of me that I loathe. It is also the decade when I lost my uncle, who I loved dearly, and my father who meant more to me than just about anyone on the planet. Back to the upside, it was a decade where I became even more self-aware than I was before and truly became comfortable with who I was as a person. I am proud as hell of who I have become and the life that I have created for myself. While I am fairly good at being reflective, I am still guilty of that-which-is-forefront-in-my-life-takes-the-spotlight, so with that in mind, the greatest occurrence of the past decade didn't take place until it was almost over. I fell in love. Eric, this next decade is for you...

New 100 things about me

2009-11-30T17:18:00.000-08:00

I was just reading over my "100 things about me" blogs and it was kind of funny. I am going to do the list again. Many of the items will be the same. But many of them have changed. I thought about simply editing the list I already did, but to be honest, I like to see the progression of me...

100. I am a fully grown adult female who is only 4' 9" tall.
99. I have a better work ethic than most.
98. I am very self aware
97. Although I am not married I am in a relationship that is serious enough for me to no longer consider myself "single"
96. I hate the term "boyfriend". Once a person reaches the age of 25 "boyfriend" just sounds stupid. "Other half" "Significant Other" anything at all is better than "boyfriend".
95. I hate the term "Cougar" almost as much as I hate the term "boyfriend".
94. I am very secure.
93. I don't like drinking anything carbonated.
92. I respect people who believe in God.
91. I do not believe in God.
90. I respect people who do not believe in God.
89. I have little patience for laziness.
88. I believe that people are the masters of their own destiny.
87. I am not the same person I was before my father died.
86. People who drive in the left lane going under the speed limit irk me to no end.
85. If I had enough money, I would live on my own private island with Eric and my dog.
84. I love my dog so much I wonder if it is normal.
83. I love convertibles.
82. I can't stand attention, even when it's positive.
81. I think people who "people watch" are rude. No one likes to be stared at.
80. I was childless by choice until mother nature made me childless for sure. Still no regrets.
79. I believe if more people were honest with themselves, fewer people would have children.
78. I believe that if there was a test that people had to take before being allowed to procreate, I would not pass it.
77. I used to be proud of what I do. Now I am not, and would give it up if it didn't pay the mortgage.
76. I love the taste of homemade whipped cream.
75. I am probably more greatful that there is an Outback where I live than makes sense to be.
74. I am a pure-bred youngest child (the youngest child of parents who were both the youngest in their sibling line).
73. I have a brother and a sister.
72. I have two nephews.
71. I wonder if loving naps on weekend afternoons is normal. Every weekend. Now that I have been properly diagnosed, my naps are not as numerous. But still enjoyable.
70. When my cell phone rings, it plays "Snoopy vs The Red Baron".
69. I love "Jack FM".
68. I wish we had "Jack FM" here in Goldsboro.
67. My favorite meal is filet mignon and lobster tails.
66. I used to sing the National Anthem at official military ceremonies on my base.
65. I don't think my voice is all that great, but I happen to sing that song decently.
64. When I was a little girl, I wanted to be Kurt Thomas. Didn't care that he was male.
63. I make one hell of a cheesecake.
62. Someday I will have a personal trainer and a personal chef and all my clothes will be custom made for me.
61. I love to look at the stars when there are no lights anywhere around.
60. Seeing a hot air balloon makes me giggle and say "look look look!!!"
59. Now that I have a DVR, I will answer my phone during a TV show. PAUSE!
58. I am a good leader because I am a great follower.
57. After not getting my first massage until 2006, I now get one about once every 3 months.
56. I prefer spending time alone more often than I like to spend time with others.
55. I have a resume with the sentence "I am really not a people person..." on it.
54. I run 4 days a week, and if I wasn't in the military, I wouldn't run. Ever.
53. I have been violently attacked by a vicious dog. To avoid that again is the only non-military exception to #54.
52. I love to read mindless drivel when I travel for business.
51. I wish I spoke another language fluently.
50. I am too lazy to learn another language fluently.
49. I have flown to NY on a whim because I had a craving for pizza.
48. I was over 30 the first time I cried during a movie.
47. My favorite dessert is cheesecake with an oreo cookie crust and chocolate sauce
46. I have never had a headache
45. I have never broken a bone
44. I have never had stitches
43. The movie Dirty Rotten Scoundrels makes me howl every time I watch it.
42. I have a garage and every time it rains when I am carrying my groceries into the house I am thankful that I work hard and am responsible enough with my paycheck to be able to afford a house with a garage.
41. Myself, and a male who shall remain nameless, proclaimed ourselves members of the “mile high club” because we…enjoyed each others company… on top of tower two of the World Trade Center.
40. One of the coolest moments in my life was the first time I heard music “in stereo” through the headset of a Walkman. I kept looking around from side to side saying “whoa…whoa!”
39. I thought “Iceman” was way hotter than “Maverick”
38. My sister in law Michelle is the most influential woman in my life.
37. I played racquetball for the first time about a month ago and I am now addicted.
36. I am in a relationship with a pilot. This breaks my two cardinal rules: no relationships and never date a pilot. He is the love of my life.
35. I thought I was the coolest person when I bought my own fax machine.
34. If I weighed 88 pounds I would STILL have a BMI of 20.
33. #34 haunts me every single day.
32. As successful as I have been academically I still fear failure.
31. I have two true phobia’s: water and spiders. Holy ick.
30. The last movie I saw in an actual movie theater was Titanic in 1997
29. My biggest accomplishment to date was getting my bachelor’s degree.
28. I hate that my options are so limited here in Goldsboro, that I am forced to shop at Walmart on the occasion that I can't find what I need at the small Target. I despise Walmart.
27. I can’t stand listening to actors who preach politics in public forums.
26. I am addicted to Starbucks hot chocolate. I am on my way there right now…
25. I have a tiny tattoo
24. I have a belly ring.
23. I have done my own plumbing and floor installation.
22. I know how to change my own oil, but I will always pay someone else to do it.
21. I will always mow my own lawn. It’s great exercise!!
20. I am a realist, and that is often confused with being a pessimist.
19. I loathe taking pills/medicine for anything.
18. If there was a magic weight loss pill, I could probably get over # 19.
17. I believe that if I chose not to go to work full time I, too, would be homeless.
16. I love the way the sunrise looks in Texas.
15. One of my favorite childhood memories was apple picking in upstate New York.
14. The best tap water I have ever tasted was at my Aunt Pearls house in White Plains.
13. When I am embarrassed I turn so red that people around me can’t help but point it out.
12. I don’t know anyone who has ever spent any time in jail.
11. I feel like I could benefit from Yoga, if I ever took the time to do it regularly.
10. My favorite number is 28
09. My favorite color is purple
08. Every time I have cherry flavored Kool-aid, I am transported right back to childhood.
07. I am the lone green-eyed member of an entirely brown-eyed family.
06. My brother and sister used to use #07 to attempt to convince me that I was adopted.
05. Getting older doesn't bother me in the least.
04. I wish I could have Nova and cream cheese on a bagel for breakfast every day.
03. I wish I could find a place here to have Nova and cream cheese on a bagel even once.
02. I have wished for aliens from outer space to come and take me away.
01. I would never ever want to be famous.

The Stillman Stubbornness Strikes Again

2009-08-03T04:01:00.000-07:00

About 5 months ago, I had a minor surgical procedure done on my left eye. This past Thursday I had fundamentally the same procedure done to my right eye. No, neither of these were vision correction surgeries. I made that dumbass decision 5 years ago.

Eric drives me home from Fort Bragg after the procedure, and I am all smiles. Mostly due to the 1/4 percocet and half a Valium I got goin on. As the day goes on, I feel as though I am in a little more pain than I was the last time, but I chalk it up to being luckier the last time.

Friday morning, I go to my local base optometrist for my post op follow up. My eye is a little swollen, also a new development from last time, but only a little. We chalk it up to nothing and I go on my way. A mere 8 hours later and my eye was swollen almost shut. The pain is a constant dull ache and I can't seem to get away from it. I am taking 1/4 percocets every 4 hours. I would take a whole one if they didn't make me so sick. Besides, I always question my tolerance for pain. Wonder if, because I have never given birth, have I ever truly been tested? I know I have been in eye pain before, and when my eyelid erodes the epithelial layer of my cornea, that pain has physically knocked me out of my bed.

By 8 o'clock Friday night I am sitting on Eric's couch, hand cupped over my right eye, and I am literally rocking back and forth in pain, thinking to myself, damn...Tuesday better get here quickly because I don't know how long I can deal with this. Tuesday, you see, was when my next follow up appt was at Fort Bragg. The thought of doing anything over the weekend never even occurred to me. The Stillman Stubbornness.

About that time, my phone rings. It is my friend Andrea. She needs to borrow my air mattress and wants to come by and pick it up. No problem. Andrea gets to my house around 9pm. I put on a brave face and let her in. Andrea also happens to be an optometrist. She gets inside, looks at my face and says, "Oh wow. Look at your eye." Short story short, within 30 seconds she diagnoses me with a vision threatening, and if left untreated for even short periods of time, potentially life threatening problem. From my living room she is on the phone with the local pharmacy calling in a prescription for some pretty powerful antibiotics with the order of "you can't wait until tomorrow to start this. Go get them now and start them tonight."

Eric, who never left my side for moment, and I headed out to the pharmacy at 10 o'clock at night to pick up the drugs. It was a long night and painful night. The next 24 hours were scary. Wondering if I had waited too long. If I was too late starting the medicine. Thinking about what position I might be in if Andrea was just another friend borrowing an air mattress and not an optometrist.

I would love to tell you that I would have done it differently. That I would have simply given in to the pain and gone to the ER at some point. But I don't think I would have. The Stillman Stubbornness could very well have caused me to lose it all. Isn't that type of gene supposed to become less and less potent by generation??

And how do you thank someone for saving your eyesight despite your stubborness? Possibly even saving your life??

The bait and switch

2009-07-12T06:23:00.001-07:00

While it may appear that I am a bitter person based on my last entry alone, I'm really not. I swear! Ask anyone who knows me. I am actually a realist with a bend towards optimism.

Now, my next gripe...

Twice this week I feel like I have been screwed. Teased and dropped. It started with TimeWarner Cable....

I get a statement telling me that my 'promotional rate' was about to expire and that I needed to call for deal or my current rate would increase. By almost $50 a month. WTF? First of all, I tell them when I call, I did NOT sign up for a 'promotional rate'. It was the cost of the service. Nowhere in the paperwork did it say that this was a promotional rate. My argument was lost on this idiot I was speaking too. I finally said it wasn't worth it and they can kiss it. She says she will transfer me to the 'retention' department. Hoping to get a better deal, I stayed on the line. Suffice it to say that the deal was better, but not good. Even so, I am pretty much between a rock and a hard place because I don't have any other options in this area to get a package of the things I want. If I drop the service, I have to go with either Direct TV or Dish for television service, ATT for internet and I can't get into ATT without getting phone service that I don't need as well. This is a small town. They know this. I am screwed. I hate feeling like I have been played. Nothing I can do about it. Bastards.

The very next day, I was looking at my mortgage statement and noticed that there was a payment if $1350.00 from my escrow account made to my insurance company for my homeowners insurance policy. My annual premium is only $430 so naturally I freaked out. My escrow balance now shows a balance of negative $267. WTF? So after an hour and a half on the back and forth with the mortgage and insurance company (happens to be the same company for me) the problem was discovered...and it ain't good. Turns out that my servicing fire department was listed incorrectly and the change caused the premium to TRIPLE. So I said there has to be something I can do about it (because my mortgage payment is going to go up $150 a month with this new rate) and they said I could call the fire marshall and get the scoop from him as far as ratings for insurance go. So call the fire marshall I did. He said that he has gotten a lot of calls this week because of the increase in peoples insurance policies but unfortunately the change was correct. He said that the rating may go back down 45 days from now and to call him back then to find out. Great. I just love making little notes for myself to call people in 45 days. GGGGRRR!

Dusting off the soapbox...

2009-07-09T14:16:00.000-07:00

I am fed up. Pissed. Angry.

I read a story on MSNBC (and no, this is not going to be a rant on the quality of MSNBC news stories) about a military hospital in Afghanistan showing a spike in patients. No fucking kidding. Fact is, we are pulling out of Iraq, but being in Afghanistan is and has been a far worse and riskier place to the lives of U.S. troops. The only reason why we didn’t see more casualties in Afghanistan than we have in Iraq is because there have been many more US troops in Iraq. Statistically there are just as many, if not more, troops killed in Afghanistan than there are in Iraq. It’s a war. Troops die. That is what happens. That isn’t even what is pissing me off.
The article was about some soldiers who were just injured and or killed in a roadside bomb that blew up their humvee. It ended with the following: "In the intensive care ward nearby, Vandergrift lay beside the one other soldier in his Humvee who survived. The soldier may be paralyzed. Holding a guitar, Vandergrift strummed a song for his friend: "The Star Spangled Banner".

Love the fact that one soldier was playing a song for his injured friend and fellow soldier. Love the camaraderie that US troops have with one another when they are fighting together. It’s all kittens and rainbows. What bothers me beyond reason is the choice of song. A song choice that says to me that the troops actually believe they are over there fighting for the freedom of America.

While I believe that as a member of the military we are paid to do a job that sometimes requires us to sacrifice our very lives in the name of OUR freedom, we need to call this what it is. We aren’t over there fighting for the rights of Americans. We are over there fighting for the Afghani’s. It has nothing to do with the freedom of our country. U.S. troops are being blown up by a bunch of insurgents and terrorists. And they aren't dying for their country. I remember September 11th just as well as everyone else, and I realize that our borders are not immune to the horrors that can be inflicted by extremists. Even so, last time I checked I still have the right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. I still have my freedom of/from religion. Still have my freedom of speech. Afghanistan isn’t a threat to any of it. I will continue to have that freedom. The risk of me dying from a terrorist action within my own country is far less than the risk I face of being killed in a drive by shooting from a US citizen. No one lives risk-free lives, here or in any other part of the world. But that doesn’t take away my freedom as an American. And getting the hell outta dodge wouldn’t take that freedom away either.

Financially Violated

2009-04-09T11:13:00.000-07:00

The internet is a wonderful invention. The fact that I can look at my bank account every day is worth the price of admission. The ability to go into my bank account and peruse my transactions on a daily basis, the majority of which I can even see via real-time, has made ‘balancing’ my checkbook all but obsolete. Life is good. I go into my account every morning and glance over the transactions, looking for anything I don’t remember or anything out of the ordinary.

This morning I sit down in front of my computer, Starbucks hot cocoa in hand, and pull up my bank account. Immediately I notice something out of the ordinary. WAY out of the ordinary. And that would be my balance. $37.40 (can’t leave off the 40 cents now, can we?). I feel the blood drain from my face as I think to myself, did I just buy a car and not remember it or something? Go on a Tiffany’s shopping spree perhaps? Maybe Starbucks charged me $3000.15 for my coco instead of $3.15. The answer was none of the above. As I scanned through the transactions it sticks out at me like a blinking neon sign. PayPal transaction for $xxxx..xx. Long story short, I am on my bank’s website, PayPal’s website, on my office phone with my bank and my cell phone with PayPal working feverishly to get this resolved.

In defense of PayPal, as soon as I logged on to their website (which I hadn’t done in months), a notice came up saying that they suspect my account had been accessed fraudulently and to call them immediately. No kidding. So I did. Of course they approved my fraud claim within hours of the call and will process the funds for transfer back into my bank account in about 10 days, but what about my heart failure? My checking account was WIPED OUT. What if I was someone less fortunate who lived paycheck to paycheck? I would have checks bouncing left and right.

The bottom line is that with the indisputable convenience we get from the internet, comes an almost equally indisputable risk. I am thankful for the security measures they had in place and wouldn’t want to be the person responsible for trying to stay one step ahead of the bleepin’ criminals who drained my checking account to within 4 Starbucks Hot Coco’s of its life. But I will tell you this, the violation I felt at having my money stolen brought out some primal anger in me and if there was any chance that the culprits were in the United States and I could have gotten my hands on them, I would have totally gone enraged ferret on their asses.

Bite your tongue!

2009-04-06T11:27:00.000-07:00

This is exactly what I did this past Friday night.    I bit my damn tongue so hard I bled for 20 minutes. Then my tongue swelled up to the point where I was speaking a-la Mike Tyson. Or more like Bill Cosby doing his routine of what you sound like when you’re on Novocain at the dentist (“I-be-O-bee Kay-Bee”). It was a good thing it was after dinner, or I wouldn’t have been able to eat.

Over the next couple of days (that still continues on even today thank you very much) this little unintentional, yet self inflicted, tongue injury has brought up the idea of tongue rings. Don’t misunderstand, I am all for body piercings. At one time or another I have had three holes in one ear, two in the other and one belly ring. I only use one set of my earring holes now at any given time and I wouldn’t give up my belly ring for anything.    I even griped about having to take it out when I had my appendix out last April. I would even consider a tiny nose piercing if I wasn’t in the military. But it’s things like biting one’s tongue that makes me wonder, even more than normal, how anyone in their right mind would pierce a metal rod through the center of their tongue. On purpose.

The pain I felt after biting my tongue was enough for me to be unwilling to speak at all for a good 5-7 minutes. Mostly because I was trying not to encourage even MORE bleeding. Granted, I took a good sized chunk of tongue from the side, rather than straight through the middle, but I am not seeing the difference in pain level based solely on location of said hole.    I have talked to people who have had tongue rings and I get a bunch of different answers when I ask the question “Didn’t that HURT??” But the majority of people answered that no, it didn’t hurt. I heard the same thing about the belly rings too. I don’t know where those people got their navel’s pierced, but I got mine done in South Florida and it hurt like hell. Way more than I thought it would. I remember as he was doing it thinking to myself, ‘So this is what it feels like to be a worm being threaded onto a bait hook’.

Was I just being a wimp? Are the people I talked to all lying or trying to make people think that THEY have a high pain tolerance? I suppose, it’s possible, but I think I have a pretty good pain threshold myself. Had me a kidney stone and survived (although I pretty much swore to Gods I don’t even believe in that I would never pee again as long as I lived). I went three full days with appendix pain before finally being ordered to see a doctor. Thought I could probably have gone longer too, but an order was an order and the Colonel was bigger than me. But biting my tongue on Friday was pretty high ranking in the Great Pain’s department. It’s still swollen and painful enough 3 days later for me to have reduced my eating by about 50- 60% and what I do eat is very slow in the chewing department.

So really…why would ANYONE injure their tongue on purpose??? Suffice it to say that my opinion about tongue rings has not improved.

The Sister

The downside of Audi...

2009-04-03T07:51:00.000-07:00

I love my Audi. It is an A4 convertible, its got a cute little turbo engine, and it suits me just fine. The great thing about Audi was their warranty. They took care of everything, and I mean everything to 50K miles. I didn't pay for so much as an oil change.

Since I knew I would own this car for a long time, I even purchased the 100K extended warranty. I now have 56K miles on it and like a light switch was flipped, my Audi is falling apart. Two engine coils broke (had one hell of a fight with the warranty company on that one, but they finally paid). Then the glove box handle broke. This is a $530 problem. For a tiny little flippy thing!! I am not goig to fix it. No, it is not covered by the $2600 warranty I bought. Then the hydrolic thing on the convertible top broke. This is a $300 problem.

What is an Audi owner to do??

True Love

2009-03-25T18:55:00.001-07:00

I am sure true love takes on many forms. I am in a fairly new relationship (relative to some) and for me, I am learning more and more what really defines true love. Yesterday I had the perfect example of such love...

My sweetie was coming home early from flying unexpectedly, so he let me know he was coming and I told him that I would go next door to his house and put on a pot of hot tea. And I did just that. However, when I went to climb up onto the counter to grab a couple of teacups, as I usually do since I can't reach them without climbing on the counter, I opened up the cabinet door and the teacups were staring at me right in the face. At some point between the last time he and I had tea, till yesterday evening, my sweetie moved all the teacups from the top shelf to the middle shelf where I would be able to reach them without having to climb up onto the counter. I actually started to cry.

May the entire world know love like the love I now know.

Wow...

2009-01-25T17:23:00.000-08:00

A couple of weeks ago I was clicking around on my father's website and started listening to some old podcasts of his radio show. Hearing his voice was just the coolest thing ever. It almost didn't matter what he was talking about, I just loved hearing his voice. I noticed as I was listening, that the radio show was sometimes shot live via webcast so that there was video of him out there too. But try as I might, I couldn't figure out how to view any of the webcasts. Until tonight...

When the video came up with my father doing one of his radio shows I was completely overwhelmed. It was just amazing to me that I saw him there on the video, talking, completely normal, as if it was happening at this very moment. It's the first time I saw my dad in video form since he died and it was just incredible. I just love modern technology...

Thief of ideas

2008-12-28T18:19:00.000-08:00

Shamlessly stealing an idea from my sister in law, I am posting a couple of pictures that I took from the backyard of my house in Louisiana. It was of an amazing sunset. It wasn't the first one I saw either. Just one that I had promised myself to take a picture of if I had ever saw it again. And I saw it. And I took it. I am a sucker for a good sunset.

6 hours

2008-12-21T03:55:00.000-08:00

That is how long I spent talking on the phone last night to my oldest and dearest friend, Cindi. Cindi and I have known each other since we were knee high to a grasshopper (not that either of us really grew much taller than that later on in life). Our friendship has endured for over 30 years, thousands of miles of separation, marriages, deaths, illness, awards, hate and love. She is as close to me as blood.

We talk about 4 or 5 times a month. We email and facebook each other more often. There is always something to talk about. When you are best friends with someone who grew up with you in the same neighborhood, then you are best friends with someone who understands what makes you tick. They knew you 'when'. Before the successes, before the gray hair and extra pounds. They knew you at your best, they knew you at your worst and they love you because of them and in spite of them. They keep your secrets and will take them to the grave.

What could we possibly find to talk about for 6 hours? I have never talked to ANYONE on the phone for 6 hours before. Well, it's amazing what you can talk about for 6 hours. We talked about anything and everything. And almost none of it was reminiscing. It was all new stuff. Of course her and I have our "remember when...?" conversations, but thankfully our friendship goes deeper than that. We truly care about what is going on in the lives of one another. We have the kind of friendship where we each have the other's parents phone numbers on our speed dial.
Our conversation last night was so refreshing and there is no other way I would have wanted to spend a Saturday night if I have to be here without my Eric anyway. I was still excited about our phone call when I finally went to bed at close to 1am.

My father always said if you find one real friend in your whole life, you are a lucky individual. Well I have known for most of our 30 year history that Cindi and I have attained that rare and special status and I am grateful every day of my life for it.

2009

2008-12-14T16:25:00.001-08:00

I can hardly believe that 2009 is almost here. 2009! Shouldn't we be further along than we are right now? I know that in 1977 I was SURE that by the time we hit the year 2000, we'd be driving hovercrafts and have the ability to fly on our own private rockets. I am disappointed that I can't yet "beam" myself somewhere. And what about time travel??? I mean, time travel should be a GIVEN at this point, shouldn't it? I would totally travel back to a time when I could have bought "Google" at $10 bucks a share. Other than that, I'd probably just roam around different points in time to be able to see cool stuff. Moon landing, Plymouth Rock landing, Woodstock (but i'd be sure to beam myself up in front of the stage so I wouldn't have to deal with all the freaky whacked out flower children). I'd love to see Janis and Jimmi play live without having to deal with the crowds and things.

We should also have the power to make ourselves invisible. Like in Harry Potter. That would RULE. Right now, I would hitch a ride on a KC 135 that I knew was heading out to where my sweetheart is and surprise him. Whoo hoo!

For now, I suppose I can just hope that 2009 is a better year than 2008. I would sure like to still have my dad around (a new time travel destination perhaps?) Not that 2008 has been ALL bad. I did meet an amazing man, bought a fantastic house and got my dog back after all. And with any luck, I will have finished SOS before 2008 is over too.

Must have been difficult...

2008-12-08T09:14:00.000-08:00

I have no kids so I realize that I may be speaking out of turn, but being a parent has got to be a tough job, even in the absolute best of circumstances. But being MY father must have been really difficult. I wasn't a rebel. I didn't break the rules. I wasn't a whiner and I never had to be told more than once to do or not to do anything. I know, really tough, huh? Well, I looked a lot different from most kids my age. Who am I kidding? I looked different than ALL the kids my age. I was significantly shorter than anyone for my entire childhood and teen years. And I was a late bloomer. Bad combination. I would have fit right in had I grown up in Tokyo.

Dad was great in that he never made me feel like there were things I couldn't do because I was so small. If I couldn't reach the sink to do dishes, I stood on a chair. If I couldn't reach the plates I stood on the counters. All that, but there was one thing he couldn't do...make me taller. And I was constantly bitching about things related to it. I wanted more than anything to look like the girls on the magazine covers. They were my age and they were wearing makeup and bikini's and had boobs! I remember one time we were in a store, I saw another magazine and asked my dad why I wasn't pretty. And when would I get my boobs. I must have been 16 or so (really late bloomer). I don't remember exactly what he said to console me this particular time, but whatever it was, it always worked. I know it had to have been difficult for him with me constantly asking about things that would never happen.

Today I was watching TV and saw a commercial for J'Adore perfume. It was a great commercial with this really hot, sexy, woman who was walking across a floor and taking things off in a frustrated, sexy manner until she was completely naked. Forget the perfume, I wanted to be HER! Tall, thin, hot, sexy. Sexy enough to be able to pull off walking down a long corridor while ripping off pieces of clothing and jewelery until I was completely naked and have it be a complete turn on to my man.

Reality is I could be thin as a rail and still never be tall enough to pull off "sexy". Cute maybe. But not "sexy". In addition, I'd probably trip and fall over if I was trying to walk and take stuff off at the same time. 37 years old and still not satisfied.

At least I finally got my boobs. Good ones too. And because they showed up so late, they still defy gravity. Of course if I hadn't gotten them naturally, I could have bought them. Can't buy 9 more inches of height and "sexy".

Happiness is...a garage

2008-11-30T05:55:00.000-08:00

Today is a nasty, cold, rainy day here in North Carolina. But I had to run errands anyway. I plodded my way over to the closet to grab my jacket and as I reached for my keys, I remembered that I have a garage. A garage that keeps me dry when I get into and out of the car on nasty, cold, rainy days.

I know I have posted something similar to this before, but it means enough to me to say it again. I grew up poor enough to live in a house that had holes in the roof. It leaked when it rained and we had to have pots and buckets scatted all over the place to catch the water as it came in. When we had errands to run or groceries to buy, and we actually took the car (instead of walking there, like we usually did), if it was raining you would try and bring as many bags as possible into the house at one time so we would get rained on less. The idea of a garage was so foreign to me. I grew up knowing nothing different.

I bought my first house with a garage when I lived in Louisiana. I will never own another house without one. And every time it rains and I have to go out somewhere, EVERY TIME, I thank myself for my work ethic and my financial responsibility that allows me to afford a home that has a garage. Life is good.

Horse sense and Turkey day

2008-11-27T15:43:00.000-08:00

I had a great Thanksgiving. Better than I ever thought possible without my dad, uncle, or Eric here with me.

In an unexpected turn of events, a friend of mine and her boyfriend were heading over to the house of one of the physician's at work. She, in turn, invited me to go with them. So I said sure. All I had planned to do was study anyway. But ya gotta eat, right? So I picked up a couple cases of soda as my contribution to the feast and off we went. The house we went to belongs to the physician, his wife, their kids and their horses. :) They have about 13 acres and 5 horses. And so I spent the afternoon with 4 other women riding horses. I hadn't been on a horse in 20 years. I came to realize a couple of things as we got close to the barn....first, horses are a lot bigger than I remembered them to be and second, I am not as brave as I was when I was 17 or 18. I was nervous as all hell. I got on the back of this beautiful horse named "Kid" who is, in horse height speak, "15 hands tall" and I felt like if I fell off this thing it was gonna hurt. But I didn't want to chicken out, so I was a good sport about it. Once I got used to it we rode around for about 2 hours. And it was a BEAUTIFUL day. It must have gotten up to 60 degrees outside. I couldn't get the smile off my face.

When we were done riding, we went inside and had our fill of traditional Thanksgiving feast. I left feeling fat, dumb and happy. Life is good. My friends' other half was there and he took a bunch of pictures of our horse riding excursion. I'll post them as soon as I get them. :)

Happy Thanksgiving to all!

The Laminated List

2008-11-23T06:54:00.000-08:00

Most people know what the "Laminated List" is. If I am not mistaken, it may have come from an episode of "Seinfeld". It's a list that holds the name of 5 famous people (no real people or people you know personally) who you would be given a free pass to have sex with, even if you were married, in the event that they would suddenly show up on your doorstep and insist that they would want to have sex with you too. No repercussions. My list contains the following 5 people:

Bruce Willis
Kevin Costner
John Travolta
Blair Underwood
Johnny Depp (providing he showered before hand)

My list used to have Christopher Reeve on it too, but since he's no longer alive, I felt it was only fair to put a new name in his place (welcome to Johnny Depp!). If there was any question, should anyone else on the list happen to die, there are runner's up waiting in the wings...

The Sister

The market sucks

2008-11-13T12:39:00.000-08:00

What the hell was I thinking? Both of my stocks have gone south. South for the winter! Well hopefully it will only last through the winter. One of them has gone so low it's almost disappeared. It's lower than I am. And I am pretty darn low. I have to breathe! Deep breath in...KEEEHHH....long breath out...Hooooooooooohh....

Maybe the stress from this particularly painful market run will trigger some weight loss! See! I am an optimist!!!

Investing like a pro!

2008-11-05T15:14:00.000-08:00

About three months ago, I was riding high in the stock market. Stocks were strong and I was a-smilin' daily! Now, however, is a different story. Yeah...not so much smilin' any more. That being said, when I thought my main stock couldn't go much lower I did what my Uncle Dan would have done...I bought more! Then it promptly plummeted another 10 points. What's a woman to do? I'll tell you; I call it "Cry-n-Buy" which is exactly what I did. I Cried as I hit the 'execute' button on my USAA investment account purchase request. To quote my late, great, Uncle Dan, who is no doubt saying from the great beyond..."I hope you know what you're doing". I hear ya, Uncle Dan. I hope so too.

No fences

2008-11-05T02:43:00.000-08:00

I had the strangest dream last night. I dreamt that someone stole the fence I just put up around my back yard. It's a really nice 6 foot wooden privacy fence I had installed and someone just came by in the middle of the night and stole it. They left like one or two 8 foot sections, I don't know, maybe just as proof for my insurance company that one was actually there to begin with, but the rest of it was just gone. Both gates, the posts, even the concrete.

I wonder where the hell that dream came from?

One track mind

2008-11-04T16:47:00.000-08:00

I had a good day today. I went to lunch with a friend of mine and when her and I were in the car on the way home, I was telling her about a funny email I got from my other half, I was laughing so hard as I was telling her about it I could barely speak. I laughed until my eyes were tearing and my stomach hurt. It was great to laugh like that. I think we should all laugh like that at least once a day.

I miss my sweetheart, but I have successfully gotten through the first full week without him. It is all downhill from here, right? RIGHT?

Missing him...

2008-10-29T09:10:00.000-07:00

Anyone who knows me knows me as a satisfied single woman. Never have I felt the need to be in a relationship. Never had the desire to get married. Very content at the life I have created for myself. Never lonely. My own best friend. Fast forward to three months ago...

Met me a man. A good man. A charming man. A man who flew in under my obviously malfunctioning radar. Sneaky, this one is too! His name is Eric. We were just friends. Developing a good solid friendship. Then he turned the tables on my unsuspecting self and kissed me. He very quickly went from being only my friend, to being my sweetheart. Fast forward to yesterday...

My sweetie left for deployment yesterday. I am experiencing emotions I have never felt. I found myself getting teary eyed several days prior to his leaving. I was teary because I knew I would miss him. I was teary because I was afraid of missing him. I was teary because I knew I would worry about him. There are very few people that I know who I would have to worry about less than my Eric. He's very good at what he does and I know I don't need to worry, but the common sense that comes with knowing that has been overridden by this new emotion I am experiencing. One that doesn't allow you to separate the fact that your sweetie is good at what he does and the fact that he is your sweetie and THAT is why you worry.

I gave my sweetheart a hug and a kiss goodbye, got in my car, and drove away. My head was spinning as I headed off base. And not in a good way. It was a rough first night. It's a rough first day. But I am already looking forward to sending him care packages and kisses though the mail.

The wonders of the NCC

2008-10-21T13:51:00.001-07:00

Currently I am on a business trip (what's known as a "TDY" in the military) to Virginia. It's called the "Leesburg Conference". Even though the conference center is not physically IN Leesburg, it's actually in Lansdowne, VA it's still called the Leesburg conference. Whatever.

The Conference center, formally called The National Conference Center (or the NCC as the post title refers to), is a compound that was built by Xerox way back in the days of TQM and TQL. That was what they used to call things like Six Sigma and AFSO 21 now a days. It was built to be 'genius' and 'efficient' in it's design and layout. You eat here, sleep here, have conference sessions here, classes here, on and on. And I will be the first to tell you, it's the most F*CKED UP LAYOUT EVER CREATED. There is no rhyme or reason to where your room is or where the conferences are. It's built in series of underground tunnels that are so confusing that the top medical minds of the Air Force can't figure out where to go.

I would really like to meet the person who came up with this design, and then meet the approval authority who said "This is bloody brilliant! Go with it!" and bitch slap 'em both.

Speaking of dying...

2008-10-20T02:43:00.001-07:00

Actually, more like THINKING I was going to die...

At about 4:15 this morning my dog, Macy, alerted to something. It doesn't happen very often, but I just assumed it was a squirrel or something animal related running in the yard. About 3 minutes later the smoke alarms went off in my house. Now I may have blogged about this previously, but in case I didn't allow me to shed some background light on fire alarms and me...

During the past year I spent in Korea, I lived in a dorm. And in that dorm, the fire alarm went off about 17 times, always in the middle of the night. And every time it would go off we would have to get up, go outside in the cold, and wait for the fire department to 'clear' the building so we could take our weary asses back in and go back to sleep.

Back to this morning...the smoke alarms in my house go off. In my sleepy state, I reverted back to being in Korea. I was PISSED. I slowly got up, opened my eyes and Macy barked again. Oh fuck. I am not in Korea. The alarm is in my house. I go out into my hallway and can both see and smell smoke. Fuck. I have to save Macy. "MACY!" I shout. Wait, I have no clothes on. Fuck. Throw on jeans and shirt. All of which are inside out and/or backwards. Grab the following...Macy, phone, computer. These were the things on my mental list of "items i would save if ever in a fire". How neat that you remember that during times of panic. What you don't think about however, is that while you are trying to remember how to disconnect the cable from the back of the computer, visions of fire blocking you from getting downstairs and out the door fill your mind and you wonder if it's worth saving the computer if it means having to leap like Superman out your second story window.

Get downstairs, put dog and computer in car, back car out of garage a safe distance from house. Leave car running in case it needs to be moved farther away from house. Go back inside house, phone in hand, still see and smell smoke. It's gettin' real. Dial 911. Pace around house while 911 operator listens to you rant about having just bought the house and amusing you as you ask if you should open door to attic. I'm convinced it's coming from there. I am afraid enough to NOT open attic. Enter bonus room. The smell of something burning is overpowering. This is insane. Think "thank god I bought insurance". Put hands on doors of bonus room interior to see if they feel warm (remembered that one from elementary school, thank you). They don't. Still convinced my attic is in flames. Where are the fire people dammit??? Right, I live in bumfuck North Carolina. It's a 10 mile drive from the closest fire department. Go outside. Look up at house. Fully expect to see home's attic engulfed in flames. No flames. Wow. Maybe I will get lucky.

First fire person arrives. It's a volunteer firefighter. I bring him into house. We go upstairs. He the smells smoke too. But the smell has diminished somewhat from what it was before. He asks, did you turn your heat on for the first time last night? Nope. Did that yesterday. It was on a couple times during the day. Still, never thought of that. Would new heating generate enough smoke and heat to set off my alarms?? Apparently so.

The good news is that the fire people said that I was the 6th house that night this happened to. I guess all's well that ends well, no?

If I died, what would I want people to remember about me?

2008-10-18T04:56:00.000-07:00

This was kind of fun to write. Not nearly as morbid as I thought. Or maybe it is and I am just wierd. Anyway, here it is:

I would want people to remember how happy I was. I would want people to think of me as someone who lived life and enjoyed life. I hope that people would speak about me and not ever be afraid to bring up my name in conversation. It's good to remember people you liked and it's enjoyable to talk about them. It helps to keep their memory alive.

I hope that when people speak about me the sentence always starts with a laugh and something like..."...Ilisa always did this thing that was so funny..."

I want people to smile when they think about me. Hell I hope there are memories of me that make people laugh out loud on a regular basis. Perhaps it'd be ok if people shed a tear or two because they miss me, even if it's several years after I am gone. It's humbling to be thought that highly of.

I want people to remember how much I loved Halloween no matter how old I got. I want people to think of me and smile every time they see anything related to Snoopy.

If GOD FORBID i was to die young those around me would have to put their own feelings aside and remember that I would want to donate my organs. Also I truly hope that they would remember that I felt very strongly that quality of life is WAY more important than quantity of life.

I hope people remember me with respect. I hope people remember me as a good person. Perhaps someone they'd be proud to have their children emulate when they become adults. I hope people remember my work ethic and never as someone who was lazy, apathetic, or disingenuous. I hope people remember me as honest, trustworthy and generous.

Mostly I hope that the people I loved never had to question how much I loved them.

MySpace and Facebook and Plaxo...oh my!

2008-09-20T13:13:00.000-07:00

So I get an online invitation today from an old friend and previous work colleague to "accept her invitation" to Plaxo. Apparently I joined Plaxo at some point, but I don't remember doing it. I am now connected with her through Plaxo, Facebook, myspace and Linkedin. I am guessing that there are even more out there that I don't know about. Interestingly enough I have people that I know on all four that may or may not also be on the other three. Mostly people I have worked with at one time or another. I find that Facebook has lots of people from my high school days that I hadn't heard or even thought about in close to 20 years. It's been a hoot and a half catching up with those folks! Facebook and MySpace is mostly people I worked with when I was still doing the corporate America gig. Same with Linkedin. I am not quite sure which direction Plaxo is heading yet. I suppose it isn't all bad. To be honest, if it wasn't for internet networks, I probably wouldn't have any networks at all.

I regret not updating this blog more often than I do. I find that over the years it has changed somewhat from being all about my life in the Air Force to being just about my life in general. I suppose it takes a bit of an ego to write about your life in a forum where others can simply click on your link and read about you. Do I really think I am that interesting? Not really. But it's a cool outlet. I can write what I want, when I want it and offer up no apologies on anything I spew forth. It's my blog, dammit.

Besides, I met a man recently and he's got the link. Suppose I should make an effort now to update more often. No pressure or anything though (hi Eric!).

Ten great things going on in my life

2008-06-21T05:00:00.000-07:00

Life is good. I am giddy and excited about all that is happening right now. Here is a list of 10 great things happening or are about to happen in my life!

1. I got promoted to Captain! For those of you who remember the movie Stripes, I am now "Captain Stillman". Lucky for me, most of the people I work with are too young to remember John Laroquette's infamous character in the movie. Also lucky for me, unlike Laroquette, I am a woman. :)

2. I am leaving Korea in 2 weeks and 4 more days!

3. I am going to North Carolina which, in my opinion is one of the most beautiful states on the east coast.

4. Bought myself a great house with 4 bedrooms and a big yard (see picture!)

5. I will get my doggy back! I can't wait to see my Macy Moo again!

6. I will get my car back! I can't wait to drive my car again.

7. My boss loves me. It's a really big deal when your boss loves you. It can make or break your daily life and mine is awesome.

8. My coworkers love me. See #7 for why this is a good thing.

9. When I get back to the states, I get to and become a shoe-whore again.

10. I had a pedicure today to prepare for # 9, and my toes look pretty.

Reflections

2008-06-18T05:55:00.000-07:00

One year in Korea has come and gone. I'm still here, but on my way out. 21 more days and I will be back on U.S. soil. For the 3rd time in 12 months.

I came here to Korea knowing full well that I would be gone for a year. No mid-tour, no leave, nothing. I was gunning it out for the full 12 months, then taking 30 days to visit my family in between my move from Korea to North Carolina. Then life happens. This past year has been both the best and worst year of my life. The first 6 months were wonderful. I traveled to China, became confident in my new role as the Executive Officer at the hospital where I work, and met some of the best people in the world. The next 6 months started with the death of a great man, my uncle Dan. The original Godfather and a true testament to the term "family man". I had such a tremendous amount of love and respect for my uncle and developed an appreciation for his quirky brilliance as an adult. The respect continued to grow into true admiration and no matter how much time passes, his legacy will live on in the lives of the members of our family.

Four short months later came the greatest loss I have ever known. The loss of my father, Norman Stillman (aka Hunter Silvastorm). There are no words to put into perspective what my father means to me. Everything I am, I am because of him. I am proud of who I have become. I am proud of what I do. I am proud of how far I have come in this life. All of this, and all I am, I owe to him. I am not the same person I was 3 months ago when he was still alive. I miss him every day. The hardest part is not being able to pick up the phone and call him. We talked every morning and every evening. Even while I was here in Korea and my morning was his evening and his evening was my morning. There was no one on this earth I enjoyed conversing with more than dad. Work, life, politics, movies, scruples, business, TV shows, science, nature, dogs, family, love.

Dad and I knew how special our relationship was. I was daddy'slittle girl in every sense of the word. Rest peacefully, dad. Tell mom I love her.

Tomorrow..."Happier times ahead"

10 things about me you may not know

2007-10-12T03:34:00.000-07:00

At least once a day I think about this blog and come up with some clever, or what I perceive to be, witty subject matter that I can come home and blog about. Then I come home, get tired and just don't do it. But I always read my brother's and sister in law's blog. Sometimes I get inspired enough to steal one of their ideas and use it for my own blog. They both wrote a list of 10 things you may not know about them. Hence the title of this entry and the meat of the matter. Here are 10 things about me that you may not know...

1. I was the arm wrestling champion of my squadron in Tech School back in 1990. I beat 22 females and 3 men before I almost collapsed from exhaustion.

2. I did a stint in Law school that I loved and still miss to this day.

3. I was a contestant on "The Weakest Link" TV game show. I was the first one voted off.

4. I am convinced that the only reason I succeed at most things I set out to do is because I have failed enough to be terrified of failure.

5. I have stood on the Great Wall of China.

6. I have a dog that I love so much that I sometimes question if it's normal.

7. The observation deck at the top of Tower Two of the World Trade center was my favorite place on the face of the earth.

8. I would love to be able to swing dance, clog dance and play piano, but I have zero rhythm, horrible balance and zero talent for musical instruments.

9. I sat here for 15 minutes trying to come up with something for number 9, and couldn't.

10. I am terrified of spiders and currently live in a country with the largest concentration of huge black and green "Banana Spiders" in the Pacific.

Quality vs Quantity

2007-08-22T05:10:00.000-07:00

I am a food lover. Let me just put that on out there, 'k? I have even gone so far as to refer to myself a food snob. I grew up poor and didn't really know good food quality until I got much older. I have grown into an appreciation of food that I didn't always have. Now, don't get me wrong, I am willing to try new things. I even had squirrel gumbo once!

Over the years, though, I have come to realize that the majority of folks i talk to love buffets. They are all about the buffet. I, on the other hand, have always loathed the buffet, in just about any capacity. I hate everything about buffets; I can't stand paying a set price for food that I will never eat enough of for it to have been worth the price I paid, I don't like going to a place to eat where I am paying to serve myself (it defeats the purpose of going out, doesn't it?), using the same nasty dirty food scoopers that everyone and their child has had their unwashed hands all over before I got there and most of all, I can't stand the idea that I am supposed to over look the lack of quality in favor of the mass quantity that is laid out in front of me. However, I am no longer going to make apologies for being a food snob. Because I am right. Period.

Tonight was a typical example of what I am talking about. Officer's club. Mongolian BBQ buffet. I am there specifically because there is a going away dinner taking place for three coworkers. You pay a set price, grab a bowl, scoop out the meat (in this case, beef, chicken, and shrimp) take as many veggies as you want, give it to a guy who takes the bowl to the kitchen, cooks it up and brings you the food you scooped into your bowl and you eat it. All around me there were people with their bowls over flowing with food (all you can eat, after all) and here I am, with a little bit of chicken, a little bit of shrimp, a little bit of meat and some veggies. And it sucked. All of it. There is nothing wrong with chicken, beef or shrimp. It was THIS beef, chicken and shrimp. Poor quality, small rubbery chicken andshrimp. Meat that was so lousy that it could barely be chewed. And folks were just eating it up. Like they were starving on a desert island. I just don't understand it. I will pay whatever price I must pay for a decent meal and would rather eat nothing then have nothing worth eating.

Now somebody bring me a ladder so I can climb down off my soapbox.

My Macy moo

2007-08-15T06:40:00.000-07:00

I simply couldn't resist putting this video of my dog and my two nephews playing in Seattle, Washington. It's good to know that she is having such a good time there! I sleep better at night because I know she is being loved and cared for the same way I love and care for her. Life is good...

Annyong haseyo!

2007-08-03T19:34:00.000-07:00

Hello from the ROK! That's the Republic of Korea for those who aren't in-the-know. Yes, it's been 6 months since i have written and in that time I have been transferred from Shreveport, Louisiana to Osan Air Base in South Korea. I have been here for two months now and now that I have gotten over the shock of the move, I am happy. The worst part of this one year assignment was having to leave my dog, Macy. I am so fortunate and grateful that my brother and sister in law agreed to keep her for a year. I can't wait for the day i can come home and pet her and hug her again.

I have to live in a dorm here and that is difficult. The room is small, damp, musty, and dark. And it's a DORM! I am 36 years old for cryin' out loud. Ok. Enough bitching.

South Korea is a beautiful, mountinous country. It sort of reminds me of upstate NY. It's humid here, which bothers most people here, but I like it. It cools down in the evenings and walking around is just awesome. I went on a hike about a month ago up Mt. Songri and visited Bupju Temple and both were just amazing! It was a 7km hike one way, up hill. A steep hill. The best workout I ever had in my life for sure. I am going to take a trip to China next month which I am very excited about. I will bring my camera and take pictures.

Meanwhile, the countdown until I go back to the United States continues...only 10 months to go! Whoo hoo!

Mommy, I wanna bicycle!!

2007-01-22T17:03:00.000-08:00

A friend of mine has been talking recently about getting back into bike riding. She has a bicycle and hasn't ridden it in awhile and after talking with her about it for a few weeks (in passing only), I told her today that I would look into buying a bike so we could ride together. Nothing big, mind you. No Lance Armstrong-ing. No triathilons. No racing. Just something different to do for exercise on a Saturday afternoon.

It's been a lot of years since I last bought a bicycle. I think I lived in Germany and my ex-husband bought me a Cannondale. I know it was an expensive bike (mountain), and I never rode it. I hated the idea of mountain bikes. I was much more comfortable with the old 10-speed street bike I had when I was a kid. I couldn't understand what the draw was for these ugly-ass mountain bikes that everyone was buying even though the majority of the buyers lived nowhere near any mountains.

What I did remember, though, as I made my way into the bike shop tonight, was that I needed a 24" frame ('cause I am super short), and that I wasn't interested in spending $600 for a leisurely Saturday afternoon ride. I was ready for anything! Knew exactly what I wanted and knew how to get it!

Much like many of my little adventures recently, I was in for a rude awakening. Do you know they don't measure bikes in inches anymore? The guy says to me the I need a 47cm frame. I don't even know how many inches that converted to (the GMAT studying hasn't been going very well. Shut up.) He also told me that I can't get by without spending over $500 for a bike. Cheapest bike in the store: $699. I think I paid $50 bucks for my Huffy 10-speed, that I beat the shit out of and lasted for 5 years (or until I bought a car, I don't really remember).

I left the bike store with my tail between my legs and a handful of catalogs (which, I have concluded, is where the money for the bikes are going). On the way home I had an epiphany...EBAY! I was sure I could go search on ebay for my bike! $699 my ass, Mr. Bike Shop Man! I'd show him! The Rocky theme began to play in my head and I barely even acknowledged my dog as I zipped over to the computer, full of hope and excitement and pulled up an ebay search...

$699, it turns out, is a pretty damn good price. *sigh*

Back up on my soapbox

2006-12-30T11:40:00.000-08:00

I am a supporter of the death penalty. So don't get me wrong when I go off on the media coverage of the execution of Saddam Hussein.

My beef is this; the difference between seeing people blown away, eaten by sharks, and sawed into little bits and pieces in the movies and seeing someone about to die for real on screen, big or little, is the emotion that humans feel. I feel that Hussein deserved to die for his crimes. I also feel that the U.S. is doing the death penalty a huge injustice by 1) delaying a death sentence for 6,10, or 20 years before carrying it out and 2) not allowing the general public to view it. Then I turned on today's news.

While the broadcasts I have seen stop short of actually showing Hussein hanging, MSNBC shows everything up until that exact moment. That is some serious shit. Then MSNBC gives a warning that they are about to show a picture of a dead Hussein and if you don't want to see it, look away. The picture of him dead was NOTHING compared to the video of him about to die. The warning should come before the process of the execution, not before the picture of a dead guy. My reaction was definitely from the pre-execution and to a human being about to loose their life. The picture of him dead was nothing. If I, a proponent of the death penalty, had this reaction, then chances are this is going to play on the emotions of some of the American public who are going to turn around and say that he shouldn't have been executed. Unable to separate feeling bad for a person who is about to die from the fact that they deserved it.

I asked myself if I would have felt differently if it wasn't a hanging, but lethal injection. I don't know for sure, but I think I might have. Maybe because lethal injection sort of has the feel of a medical procedure rather than an execution. If he was put to death via Guillotine, I would have probably felt the same as I did about the hanging. Just seems barbaric. I suppose that is the point though, right? That is probably one of the reasons why the death pentaly in the U.S. isn't a deterrent.

It's a tough call, I guess. But in the mean time, how about if the U.S. started public caning? Talk about a deterrent! Hoo ah!

Scrubs, whales and Scrubs again

2006-12-22T16:22:00.000-08:00

I am watching Scrubs again. The best show on TV. It reruns on TBS and I didn't watch it when it first came out so now it's all new to me. But more about Scrubs later... A commercial came on just now that was for one of those new cell phones. It had two people floating under the ocean and they were talking about the phone. Then a woman floats up to them and says "nice phone" and this big honkin' whale swims down on her from above and eats her! It completely freaked me out. That was one f**ked up commerical. I may have nightmares.

Back to Scrubs. Best show on TV. Yesterday I was watching an episode and Dr. Dorian (Zach Braff) was trying to diagnose a patient and he comes up with this diagnosis that is a remote disease that only people in the Congo get and has been eradicated since the late 18th century or something like that. Dr. Cox's character starts on one of his truly priceless tirades about Dr. Dorian "looking for zebra's". It was hysterical. What made it even funnier was that when my brother was in medical school he told me a story about exactly that. Med students, who have only learned enough to be dangerous, that come up with these remote diagnoses for people who have something simple and common. But they are so eager to save the world and see something they learned about that they will look for "zebras" in a field of horses.

Reading it over, I realize that it looses a little something in the relay of the story. But I don't care. My blog. Neener neener.

Goin' to the chapel...yo

2006-12-19T17:17:00.000-08:00

Not me of course. I would never go to the chapel for the purpose of getting married. However, my oldest friend, Cindi, sure did. I just returned from her wedding in NY. It was really amazing. A wedding right out of "The Sopranos". Aside from the fact that the wedding took place on the first night of Hanukkah and was a full Catholic Mass ceremony which was ironic only to my Jewish ass, it was truly something wonderful. For several reasons...

To begin with, I was a first time bridesmaid. All kinds of cool stuff comes along with that. We get to wear really beautiful dresses (although I am told that we lucked out and that most bridesmaid dresses are these lacy, poofy, taffeta numbers that no person who isn't a pre-op transexual would be caught dead in), we get to ride in the limo, just us girls and the bride! Although the limo, in this case, was a stretch Ford Explorer, and we get to sit in the 'bride room' during the cocktail hour portion of the reception and get fed and liquored up by a private wait staff. I tanked on Shirley Temple's. Bring on the grenadene and marachino cherries!

If I forgot someone's name during the course of the week, all i had to do was shout out "Joey" "Tony" "Anthony" "Johnny" or "Bruno" and I was bound to be right. Italian Catholic wedding. Being that the wedding took place in my home town in NY, i found myself wondering on many occasions if I ever sounded like that when I spoke? Ay yo. Yo ay. I was laughing most of the time which was really great, and when I wasn't laughing, I was scarfing on the best Italian food in life.

Overall the trip was a great success. I suppose that this means I need to learn how to spell Cindi's new last name. It's some Italian number that starts with an "M" and ends with an "i". You'd think that since her and her now husband have been together for almost 8 years that I would have tried to figure that part out sooner. Who knew?

Here are some pictures!

Better get used to it.

2006-11-12T07:09:00.000-08:00

About two entries or so ago, I had mentioned that I would be moving in less than a year. It's the normal rotation of most officers in the military. Three years then it's off to a new place. There are lots of officers who don't like that very much because they have families, kids, whatever. I, on the other hand, love the idea of moving every three years. I get to go and see new places, experience new things, meet new people, etc. What's even better is I have no family to 'uproot'. Just me and my dog and she doesn't really care where we are as long as I am with her and bring food. I was really looking forward to my next move.

Now, however, the military has decided it was too expensive to move people every three years and has extended all orders to four years. I was so disappointed. As I have mentioned several times before, it's not bad here in Shreveport Bossier, but i was looking forward to going someplace new next year, and now I am not going anywhere until the fall of 2008. Two full years from now. I am sure I will get over it, but in the meantime, I am just going to whine about it, and maybe upgrade my counter tops to granite.

"...the Great Pumpkin rises out of the pumkin patch..."

2006-10-27T19:15:00.000-07:00

I carved my very first pumpkin tonight! WOO HOO! I did good too!

I remember pumpkin carving as a young child. My dad carved the worlds greatest pumpkins. In upstate NY, not long after apple season, was pumpkin season. Each year in late September we would go to the apple orchards, pick what seemed like a hundred apples, bring them home, peel 'em up, and my father would make the worlds best apple pies with us from scratch. Then, usually about the 2nd week of October, we would go to the pumpkin patches and dad would let each of us three kids pick out a pumpkin for ourselves, (as big as we wanted as long as we could carry our own), bring 'em home and he would carve a pumkin for each of us. He would carve whatever face we asked him to. Happy faces, scary faces, funny faces, crooked faces, whatever we wanted. He would do it and they would be the best pumpkins on the entire block. Dad rocked. He was the worlds best pumpkin carver. Did I say that already?

So each year since I have lived on my own (18 years now) I have said to myself, "This is it, this year I am going to buy a pumpkin and carve one myself!" About 6 or 7 years ago, I even went so far as to buy one of those little pumpkin carving kits with the patterns you can use to carve and the little pumpkin carving knives in it. Cute little kit. But I never actually bought the pumpkin. Well this was finally my year. Maybe it was finally living in a part of the county that gets cool in the fall again. Maybe it was because I can go outside here and smell Halloween in the air (something I am convinced that only a true northerner can relate to). Who knows. But I bought me a pumpkin. And tonight, after having it sit on my counter for a week, I dug through my drawers, found my little pumpkin carving kit, picked out a cool witch pattern and carved my pumpkin!

I have a whole new respect for my dad. First of all, scooping pumpkin glop from the center of a pumpkin didn't bother me nearly as much as a kid as it did tonight. I swear I remember it coming out in one clean batch as a kid. I know 18 years isn't quite enough for pumpkin evolution to have taken it's toll, so I must have blocked it out. I also know that there isn't a chance in hell that i had anything to do with the actual carving part. My wrists will never bethe same. And i can do 50 pushups!!! By the time I was done mangling this pumpkin to within an inch of it's life, i was covered in pumpkin gloop, seeds, and underneath my nails was orange. But damn. It was worth it. I did a pretty bang up job (that took every minute of two hours). I got the seeds roasting in the oven and a candle burning in the center. I love Halloween.

I know I will go to bed tonight hoping that the Great Pumpkin will rise up out of the pumpkin patch and pick my pumpkin as the best pumpkin on the block.

It's been awhile...

2006-10-08T18:34:00.000-07:00

Wow, has it really been since mid Aug that I last updated this journal? My bad.

I just got back from a run. The weather here has finally cooled off some and i can run outside again without eating a million mosquitoes. Life is good. Admittedly, I slacked off for a while on the workouts. I was maybe running once a week. I get fat really quickly when I am not exercising every single day. Of course, when one is only 4' 9" tall, the fat really has no place to go and the whole world can tell when you gain 5 pounds. To make matters worse, I just went to get fitted for my bridesmaid dress for my friend, Cindi's wedding, which is coming up in December, and my dress is a size 10. A freaking TEN! I was mortified. The woman at the dress place said that you can't use that as a guide because wedding and bridesmaid dresses are sized differently than other clothes. Whatever. All my other clothes are either a 4 or a 6. Even a six is unacceptable for someone of my size, i realize, but I am realistic. A loose 4 would make me happy. So, far be it for me to bitch and not do anything about it, I will bitch and work out. Life is good again. The good news is that I loose weight as quickly as I gain it as long as i am working out every day.

I started my new rotation at work this past Monday. It was hard to leave the flight I had grown to know and love, but it's part of my career. I have to rotate as a career requirement. Over the next 2 years, i will rotate two more times at least. I am the Group Practice Manager now and I think I am going to enjoy it once I learn the in's and out's of the job. I am looking forward to the change and, at worst, I am only there for another year before I am scheduled to move to another base.

I love the idea of moving to a new place. It's not that I don't love my home, and this town, although painfully tiny, has grown on me a bit. But I love going to new places! A year will be over before I know it. Life is good.

Double grrrr

2006-08-19T17:05:00.000-07:00

I am on the phone with my brother this evening, and I was asking him if he ever knew anyone who has ever bought a car using Ebaymotors. He asked me why? I told him the story of my car drama. During the conversation, I was sharing with him the little things that frustrated me about my Toyota that I mentioned in my last entry. Including the fact that I can't open the trunk from the inside of the car. He stopped me and said that he had never heard of that. I told him I know and that is one of the reasons why it irked me. You should be able to open the trunk from the inside. He said have you looked for the switch inside the glove compartment? Glove compartment? Why in God's name would I look for the trunk switch in the glove compartment? Every car I have owned has had the trunk switch near the gas cap switch on the floor by the drivers side seat. So, with him on the phone, I went out to my car, with dread in my heart, as my typical M.O. crept into the forefront of my mind and opened up the glove compartment...

I was happy to see, at first, there were no obvious buttons or switches that looked like, or were labeled, "trunk" but I felt around anyway and as my fingers passed over the little black button my head fell down into my chest. I pressed the button which was answered with a simple "pop" as the trunk opened. "Son of a..." I exclaim as I hear the first vestiges of what was going to be a full four minutes of laughter out of my brother. Admittedly, I laughed pretty darn hard myself. Mostly out of embarrassment as I recalled a very similar story involving me, my lawn mower and it's "primer" button that i didn't know existed. But also out of sweet relief that I now know something new about my car that will certainly make my life easier when I travel!

Thanks, Chuck, for making my life easier and not making me feel TOO foolish about it!

Grrrrr!

2006-08-17T15:59:00.000-07:00

Almost everyone who knows me learns very quickly how I feel about my car. I love my car. I have a Toyota Solara convertible. I love convertibles and I have always had good luck with Toyota's so it was only fitting that my upgrade vehicle would be a Toyota convertible. It's a Camry so it's got a very nice, large back seat and is more luxurious than the other cars in it's class, but it's not the Audi or the Saab. No matter, though, it's a convertible and it's mine. I have had the car for three years now and have been happy with it.

However, over the past two weeks i have gone from loving my car to hating my car. Since I had the car, there have been a few little things that have bothered me, but nothing that i found bothersome enough to dislike the car. Things like the fact that you can't open the trunk without the key. There is no trunk opener inside the car so the car not only has to be parked but turned off so you can open the trunk with the button on the key chain. I didn't find this out until the first time I went to the airport and they made me "pop the trunk". It was all this drama because the trunk doesn't open from the inside of the car. Still, not a really big deal and when i travel, i have gotten used to turning off the engine so i can open the trunk. The other thing is the remote entry key itself. The button to unlock/lock the doors is positioned in such a way on the remote that when you press it, your other finger triggers the alarm button that is on the back of the remote. It takes some fancy finger work not to set off the alarm every time i lock/unlock the door. Again, not bothersome enough to dislike the car. I just worked around it.

Then, there is this issue i have with the car pulling to the left after i get over 35 mph. I have brought the car in 6 times, at least, just for the pulling alone. They would "fix" it and i would be on my way, only to have the problem return the next day. I finally stopped bringing it in, but I know that has to be part of the reason i am on my third set of tires. Still love the car, but getting frustrated...

The last straw has been the convertible top itself. I had to get a new top 2 days after i bought the car because it was not aligned right. I would open the top and it would catch and bend before it opened. They replaced the top and, although most of the time it was working fine, it's been happening more and more lately. Well last week, the back window on the convertible top fell out. It literally FELL OUT. And it happened at the most inopportune time. The night before i was supposed to fly out for another TDY. So I had no time to go to the dealership to get it fixed. I had to take the car to the airport on the interstate with it pulling to the left, stop the car and turn off the engine to "pop the trunk" when i got to the airport, and tape the damn rear window back into the convertible top like i live in a trailer park and pray it didn't rain during the next two weeks that i was going to be out of town. I put a towel down on the rear seat just in case it rained and leaked.

I got to my TDY, which happened to be in Orlando, and started looking up how much it was going to cost me to get the window fixed on my car. That is when i discovered Pandora's Box. Turns out, these problems are not just mine. They are common among owners of the Toyota Solara convertible. The more I researched, the more I began to hate my car. I have even started looking into the Saab and the Audi (because I can't afford the BMW to be quite honest). I still love convertibles and I have to say that I haven't had any issues with the engine/drive train/transmission at all. But the number of things that have been going wrong lately have made me nuts.

Stupid car.

Funny movie line

2006-08-04T19:45:00.000-07:00

It took me a while, but I finally got around to watching the movie Office Space for the first time about 3 months ago. Now, almost like Napoleon Dynamite, every time it's on, I can't bring myself to turn it off. One of the funniest lines I have ever heard came from that movie. It was the scene after the three guys found out that they had made an error in their calculations and they ended up with a lot of money. They were sitting in their apartment and trying to figure out how to hide the money and one of the guys is looking up "money laundering" in the dictionary and as he's reading the definition the other guy says "I can't believe we are such nerds that we have to look up "money laundering" in the dictionary."

It just kills me every time I see it. Of course the scene when they take the copier out into the field and destroy it with a bat to the song "Damn, It Feels Good To Be A Gangsta" is right up there in the top ten for me too. I guess I just spent too many years as a prairie doggin' cube jockey. Doesn't take much to make me giggle.

Visiting the past

2006-07-30T13:01:00.000-07:00

Yes, Ilisa is actually from upstate New York. The truth is told. I do not admit I am from NY to most people. When I am asked where I am from, I am quite comfortable saying South Florida because that is where I have lived and worked for the past 11 years prior to coming back into the Air Force. I consider south Florida to be home. However, I was raised in a little town called Wappingers Falls. Although I have great memories of my old home town, I remember more than anything wanting to "get out". Like I was awaiting parole or something. I got out all right. Never looked back, either. However, I still have a tie or two back there in NY. I have an aunt, uncle and some cousins, but more importantly, I have a lifelong friend, Cindi. Cindi is going to be married in December. I went back to little Wappingers Falls see her last week and get some pre-wedding socializing done. I met a couple of the other bridesmaids, saw her wedding dress and scoped out the location for the wedding. We had a blast.

I also made it a point to drive around and spend some time looking at all the places I remembered from when I was a child. I saw my old house, the old library, the best old pizza place in the world, Frank's (which is still there and still awesome and they even knew I was one of the Stillman kids!), my old schools, etc. It was such an awesome trip. I always had an appreciation for where I lived and grew up because my father always had us out in the town and surrounding areas enjoying nature, picking apples, sleigh-riding or just generally going on adventures through the mountains. While I was very rich in love and family, we were very poor financially. Powered milk and food stamps were the song of the day back then. Most people were too poor to get out. But now, going back, the area has become very hot (just north of NYC). I probably couldn't afford a home there now even if I wanted one. Which, for the record, I do not, but it really is so much nicer than I remember it to be.

I had a great time, and even got to see a couple of friends that I never thought I would see again. A girlfriend of mine Shaun and her mom Margaret to name two. I also got the chance to spend some quality time with a very influential gentleman from my past named Jeff, who was the person I formed the basis of my leadership style off of. He is a retired Marine with a sense of humor and knack for for common sense that is very much un-common. It was just incredible to see them all and to see the town. Seeing all that has changed and all that has really NOT changed. :) The bottom line is I feel ten years younger and invigorated. I didn't even realize how burned out I was until I went on this vacation. I am ready to go back and attack the world again. Life is good.

Hilton's and other things that should stick to Hotels

2006-07-19T07:02:00.000-07:00

I am listening to one of the local top-40 radio stations. The reception I get isn't very good, so when I sort-of heard the main melody of the song that was starting, an older song popped into my brain and I started humming along happily thinking, wow, I haven't heard this song in forever! The song I am talking about is "Break My Stride" by Matthew Wilder. It came out sometime in the mid eighties, I think. I loved that song. I found it very surprising that it was being played on this radio station since they only play current top 40 music.

About 45 seconds or so into it, I thought I heard a female voice, and knew that it couldn't possibly be "Break My Stride". Matthew Wilder has clearly a male voice and this was clearly a female voice. So here I am, picking up my little clock radio, waving it around the office trying to find a pocket of reception clear enough to decipher exactly what I was listening to. With one foot on my desk, a hand on my chair, and the hand holding the radio straight up in the air, I was able to listen to the rest of the song. The DJ comes on and says that it was Paris Hilton with her new song "Stars are Blind". Mortifying, to say the least. I won't go into my whole schpeel here about Paris Hilton because, one, she's not worth the physical exertion of typing it, but most importantly, my point is not Paris Hilton, but the song itself. I was able to almost completely sing "Break My Stride" along to the base melody of "Stars Are Blind".

I remember something similar happening in the eighties with the song "Ghostbusters" by Ray Parker Jr., and "I Want A New Drug" by Huey Lewis and the News. I heard the similarity almost immedieatly after heaing "Ghostbusters" the first time. Later on I believe there was even a lawsuit brought on by Huey Lewis against Ray Parker Jr. for stealing his song. I could be wrong, after all the reception really stinks in my office. But if anyone else knows Break My Stride and has heard Stars are Blind, listen for it. It sure sounds like the same melody to me.

That's FIRST lieutenant, thank you!

2006-06-21T17:59:00.000-07:00

So last week, after a long two years, I finally put on the rank of 1st Lieutenant! I realize that it's automatic to go from 2nd Lt to 1st, but I don't care! It's a big deal to me! And I had one of the best promotion ceremonies ever, if i may be so bold as to make that claim.

My brother, Chuck (in the picture with me) is also active duty, he is a doctor (a Radiologist) in the Army stationed in Tacoma, WA. He's a Major Promotable. For those who are rank-knowlege impaired, that means that he has a line number to put on Lieutenant Colonel even though he is still wearing the Major rank. Why explain all this, you ask? Because as a senior ranking officer he has the authority to officiate the ceremony of my promotion. And boy did he ever! I, of course, am in Louisiana. Quite the hike from Tacoma! But he made the trip, midweek at that, for the sole purpose of officiating my promotion ceremony. It was even cooler because he was the only person wearing a green uniform in a sea of blue. Hee hee!

The woman in the picture, pinning on my rank along with Chuck is Wendy. She is my closest friend here in Louisiana.

So enjoy the pictures and remember, when you call me Lieutenant now, you have to mean it!

Oh say can you seeeeee......

2006-06-20T10:46:00.000-07:00

I am not sure if I have ever written an entry about my singing the National Anthem before, so I suppose I have to start this entry by saying that I sing the National Anthem for official functions at Barksdale AFB. There are three or four of us who do it and we rotate through the ceremonies. I sing at retirement ceremonies, Change of Command ceremonies etc. I also sing for some of the college graduation ceremony's that take place on base. It's not that I am Whitney Houston or anything, far from it actually, but I have a passable voice and the guts to sing the National Anthem sans music in front of a crowd. It's fun and i take a lot of pride in doing it. The interesting thing about singing at official military functions is that there is a specific protocol involved. The Honor Guard posts the colors, they dip the flag, I sing. When I finish, the Honor Guard finishes posting the colors and they march out. During this whole time everyone in the room is standing at "attention" and in complete silence. The silence continues through the posting, my singing and through the chaplain's invocation which immediately follows my singing. The great thing about that is two fold...1) No one is looking at me when I am singing and 2) I get to go sit down when the chaplain comes up to speak and blend back in to the audience. It's all very much on the DL and I get to remain fairly anonymous. I actually prefer it that way.

Occasionally someone from within the Shreveport/Bossier community will have an event that requires someone to sing the National Anthem and they call the base and ask if they can send one of the singers. Well last week, I got my first chance to sing at a community event. It was for the 2006 Special Olympic Summer Games opening ceremony. It was so awesome! The difference is that when you are singing in the community, there really isn't protocol like there is for military ceremonies. The crowd at the LSU gymnasium was very excited and enthusiastic and when I got out on the floor they were cheering and clapping. When I started to sing, everyone sang along with me! It was great!! I had a smile on my face the whole time. It's incredible to hear 300 people all singing the National Anthem at the same time. After I was done (or after WE were done as was the case!) there was more cheering and I was totally humbled. There is no cheering or clapping or any noise at all for that matter at military ceremonies. This was really neat! Who'd a thunk it?

hiatus

2006-05-23T12:40:00.000-07:00

Ah, Tuesday! What is so good about Tuesday, you ask? I'll tell you... I don't have a test tonight, that's what! I am on a break between semesters from school. To think, having to work 55 hours a week seems tollerable when you don't have to go to school at night too. :) There is a two week break between semesters at school and life is good for the moment. I decided to double up the ol' course load come next week when school starts up again, though. Glutton for punishment perhaps? Maybe. But I really just have the tendency to get all excited when I see myself actually begin to accomplish a goal. I figured it out and I can finish my first masters by the end of next summer if i keep up this pace. This begs the question, can I keep up this pace? Time will tell. Too late to drop the classes now though, so I will just have to suck it up if I made a mistake.

Test anxiety

2006-04-09T08:21:00.000-07:00

Next week is mid-term week. I start worrying about mid-term week about 1 week into the semester. I hate tests and it doesn't get any easier as I get older. As a matter of fact, it gets worse. I suppose if i was one of those naturally brilliant individuals, you know, the ones who don't have to crack a book and kick ass on every test they take, i wouldn't be nearly as worried. But I am a needs-to-study-for-hours-on-end kind of person. I sometimes wonder why i even subject myself to this kind of stress voluntarily. I sure as hell have plenty of stress at work to last me all day and night for the rest of my life. Much of it I can do nothing about. Maybe that is why I like school. It's stressful, but I really do have total control over how well I perform. I work really hard and I earn all the credit.

The real reason why I do it is because I want to get picked up for an AFIT scholarship from the Air Force. AFIT stands for Air Force Institute of Technology. You can get a full scholarship for a masters degree from either a civilian university or Baylor University . Both are sweet options. It means that the Air Force would pay me to go to school full time without having to work. If i can do really well for the next several classes that I am in now, it can make my AFIT application package more competitive. The GPA I carry in the classes i am taking now show a history of success at the graduate level. All the more reason for them to pick me! I will start the actual application process in about another year. I am hoping that I can leave this assignment directly into the AFIT program. That would just rock. I better get back to the books...

Happiness is a box from Sephora!

2006-03-25T19:39:00.000-08:00

The people who know me know that I am not the epitome of femininity. I do not exude woman-hood by any stretch of the imagination. Be it because I am really small, or because I have non existent man-lips, or maybe it is because during my formidable years I was raised primarily by my father who was simply clueless as to what it took to raise a female. Maybe it’s because my skin is so sensitive that I have a reaction to anything I put on it that isn’t just plain ol’ Irish Spring. I don’t know. Could just be the way I was born. I could have had Princess Diana as my guide to womanhood and still not taken to the whole song and dance of makeup, heals and accessorizing.

Even with all that being true, there are still some things about me that are undoubtedly female: I love my pedicures, I would never wear a t-shirt for anything other than working out or mowing my lawn, I have grown to believe that Nordstroms is THE only place to shop for shoes and of course, I love getting a box o’goddies from Sephora. Now I know for someone like me, who claims to be one of the most unfeminine heterosexual females on the planet, to love getting a box in the mail from Sephora , (only one of the most female stores out there today), is so contradictory that one may feel I am mistaken about who I truly am. Believe me, I am not. You see, I am a feminine wannabe. I would love to be one of those women who wear makeup every day, have a great tan, change purses with every outift and wears bracelets and necklaes. But I am not. I just don't have it in me.

However, Sephora is one of my exceptions. When I lived back in South Florida, we had Sephora stores and I would always go there. The home of the Grapeseed body wash, MAC makeup, and every perfume, shower gel, hair product and stuff that just smells good, that you can imagine. Here in Bossier City, no Sephora. So I go online to buy my goodies. It really is just as good as going into the store itself, with the exception that you can’t smell any of the good stuff. What’s even better is that you get all kinds of little samples of stuff along with your order that you can try out.

I pulled into my driveway yesterday when I got home from work and saw that snazzy black and white box on my doorstep and I found myself dancing in my driver’s seat! Woo hoo! My Sephora stuff arrived! I just love the way the stuff is wrapped all pretty-like! I am like a kid in a candy store. You buy one or two items and your box has like five things in it! It’s always great to get it on a Friday too I’ll tell ya, because I get to try everything out, and, no doubt, have time to clear up from the allergic reaction I am sure to get from at least some of the stuff before I have to go back to work on Monday. Sometimes, like this time, I don’t have an allergic reaction to ANY of it! Of course, I have only tried two things so far. In this box there is a sample of lip-plumping serum. I am going to try that one out tonight. I hope 24 hours is enough time for the swelling to go down if needbe…

I just love the Air Force!

2006-03-18T16:59:00.000-08:00

I had the greatest Air Force day yesterday! The base Company Grade Officer (CGO) counsel set up a tour of one of our Bomb Wings. For those of you who are civilians, this is probably a good time for me to describe to you the difference between the “Line” of the Air Force and what I do. I am part of a group of Air Force officers that fall into a category of Commissioned Officers. We are officers that come into the military already commissioned by virtue of our education and specialty. The only officers who fall into this category are lawyers (JAG officers), chaplains and medical officers (doctors, RN’s biologists, Medical Service Corps officers (me) etc.). All other officers and enlisted personnel fall under what is known as the Line of the Air Force. This would be your fighter pilots, navigators, cops, maintainers etc. What this means is that the people in my capacity who push papers and handle millions of dollars in budgets don’t get to see any of the good stuff! The stuff that most civilians think the entire Air Force is made up of.

Well yesterday, as I said earlier, the CGO which is made up of officers, both Line and specialty who fall under the grade of Lieutenant to Captain, got to go on this tour of the Bomb Wing. We got to go play in a classroom where they teach pilots to fly a B-52! (I recommend google’ing if you don’t know what a B-52 is so you can get an idea of what I am talking about) We also go to go inside an actual real live one! I got to sit in the pilot’s seat!! Chicks in control, man! Our tour guide on this awesome journey, a Major by the name of “Killer”, was getting a kick out ofall of us playing around inthe aircraft. I couldn’t see out the window because I was too short, but I didn’t care at all! There were several areas on the tour where Killer said, “I realize that this some of this stuff is boring…” and myself and one of my colleagues, Wendy, looked at each other and said “RIGHT…like ANY of this is boring!!” We were so excited.

I know where I fit in the Air Force. I fully understand the job I do and my impact on the success of the Air Force mission and I appreciate it. I love what I do. But MAN that was SO cool yesterday! To meet a few of the men who ARE the Air Force! The pilots, the navigators, the maintainers. They have a tough job, too, I’ll tell ya. It is cramped, hot, old and dirty in one of those “BUFFs”. They spend hours and hours in them at a time. I have a whole new respect for those guys. I am glad they do what they do, because as cool as it was yesterday, I wouldn’t want their job for any amount of money in the world.

Idiots, I say! All of them!

2006-03-14T05:09:00.000-08:00

This would be really funny if it wasn’t so pathetic. Give me a moment whilst I go get my soapbox… Alright, I am back and perched happily atop its sturdy frame!

I am on an address list of a website that has email traffic from people who graduated from my high school during the eighties. This is not "Classmates" or "Reunion.com" or anything like that. It’s just a sort of blog-type site that has different groups on it. I am really not sure how I got on the email list, but I am there. So be it. 90% of the time I delete the emails without ever reading them. Yesterday, for whatever reason, I read one of the emails.

It was written by a female who graduated in ’83, I think, and she was replying to a previous post commiserating with other parents. Basically about how horrible it is to be a parent. Whatever. The part that killed me, is she wrote the following sentence exactly like this: “And yes things are very different now then when we were kids..but we RESEPCTED anyone who was older, children now a days do not I repete do not have this trate.”

I actually cut and pasted it so you wouldn't think I was making it up. As if that isn’t bad enough, she follows it up by saying she is a nursery school ‘teacher’ to 65 children a week. I have some news for you, there is a very distinct difference between a typo and being a complete idiot. This was not simply a case of “hte” for the, or “hsa” for has. This is a woman who ‘teaches 65 children a week’. I have more news for you there…you are a babysitter. There has yet to be a single state in the Union that requires a nursery school child to pass a state exam upon completion of nursery school to go on to kindergarten. Matter of fact, there isn’t a single state that requires attendance in nursery school! Additionally this person shouldn’t be allowed to teach obedience to dogs, let alone anything to children. Not a single properly used comma in the sentence (which, by the way, she started with the word “And”).

Tell me, what is the deal with “repete”? It could be a knockoff skit from “The Newhart” show…This is my brother Pete and this is my other brother Re-pete”. You could do a “My Name is Earl” sketch on having “trater tots” back at the trailer park with your supper.

I realize that I can’t change the world, and getting all riled up about it won’t make it better. I also know that I am not the most grammatically correct person in the world. I am sure I have misused a comma here and there in this post alone. The difference is, I know my weaknesses and by golly I am at least smart enough to use the "spell check".

Venting my frustrations

2006-03-08T13:33:00.000-08:00

As much as I love what I do for a living, sometimes things become unpleasant. There are all kinds of leadership-isms out there: “10% of your people do 90% of the work” “10% of your people cause 90% of your headaches” and so on and so forth. I am the head of a department that has three distinctly different branches. There are about 35 people total in the department. I have to say that I feel fortunate that the majority of the people are good. However, there is a severe problem with one.

In a nutshell, this individual stole $1200 from their corporate credit card. This person was still in their probationary period of employment in the civilian sector of my department and I made the decision to fire them. If this was an active duty military member, they would have gone to jail. As a civilian, though, this person had the right to accept the termination or resign in lieu of being fired. This person chose to resign of their own free will rather than be fired. That should have been the end of it. It wasn’t. This person has attempted to file suit against me and our commander for everything under the sun. It has dragged on for 2 months now.

I believe that a person has the right to defend themselves but there is really nothing to defend here. This individual stole $1200, got caught and quit her job. The accusations have been for everythingfrom violating privacy rights to racism. So far, all the allegations have been deemed unfounded by outside investigators and the powers that be (way above my level). The frustrating part is that I have to defend myself over and over and over again for something that is so cut and dry. The attempts on behalf of this individual to steer all eyes away from the truth is madding. I am finding myself discouraged and disheartened and I am tired of having to fight this hard.

My boss, who is in this with me, reassures me that he has seen this kind of thing before and that the only reason why I am so frustrated is because I don’t have the same level of experience with these types of situations that he has seen over the years. He is probably right. But it sucks to be falsely accused nonetheless. It’s very Shawshank.

The final 25

2006-03-03T18:15:00.000-08:00

Well, here they are, the final 25. These last 25 were much harder to come up with than I thought they would be. I think it's not that I couldn't think of 25 more things, but trying to come up with 25 more INTERESTING things is a different story. I think 100 may have been a bit much. I should have gone with 50. But, here they are, nonetheless, as promised.

25. I have a tiny tattoo

24. I have a belly ring.

23. I have done my own plumbing and floor installation.

22. I know how to change my own oil, but I will always pay someone else to do it.

21. I will always mow my own lawn. It’s great exercise!!

20. I am a realist, and that is often confused with being a pessimist.

19. I loathe taking pills/medicine for anything.

18. If there was a magic weight loss pill, I could probably get over # 19.

17. I believe that if I chose not to go to work full time I, too, would be homeless.

16. I love the way the sunrise looks in Texas.

15. One of my favorite childhood memories was apple picking in upstate New York.

14. The best tap water I have ever tasted was at my Aunt Pearls house in White Plains.

13. When I am embarrassed I turn so red that people around me can’t help but point it out.

12. I don’t know anyone who has ever spent any time in jail.

11. I feel like I could benefit from Yoga, if I ever took the time to do it regularly.

10. My favorite number is 28

09. My favorite color is purple

08. Every time I have cherry flavored Kool-aid, I am transported right back to childhood.

07. I am the lone green-eyed member of an entirely brown-eyed family.

06. My brother and sister used to use #07 to attempt to convince me that I was adopted.

05. Getting older doesn't bother me in the least.

04. I wish I could have Nova and cream cheese on a bagel for breakfast every day.

03. I wish I could find a place here to have Nova and cream cheese on a bagel even once.

02. I have wished for aliens from outer space to come and take me away.

01. I would never ever want to be famous.

# 49-26

2006-03-01T18:04:00.000-08:00

49. I have flown to NY on a whim because I had a craving for pizza.

48. I was over 30 the first time I cried during a movie.

47. My favorite dessert is cheesecake with an oreo cookie crust and chocolate sauce

46. I have never had a headache

45. I have never broken a bone

44. I have never had stitches

43. The movie Dirty Rotten Scoundrels makes me howl every time I watch it.

42. I have a garage and every time it rains when I am carrying my groceries into the house I am thankful that I work hard and am responsible enough with my paycheck to be able to afford a house with a garage.

41. Myself, and a male who shall remain nameless, proclaimed ourselves members of the “mile high club” because we…enjoyed each others company… on top of tower two of the World Trade Center.

40. One of the coolest moments in my life was the first time I heard music “in stereo” through the headset of a Walkman. I kept looking around from side to side saying “whoa…whoa!”

39. I thought “Iceman” was way hotter than “Maverick”

38. My sister in law Michelle is the most influential woman in my life.

37. Although I shouldn’t, I do think fighter pilots are hot.

35. I thought I was the coolest person when I bought my own fax machine.

34. If I weighed 88 pounds I would STILL have a BMI of 20.

33. #34 haunts me every single day.

32. As successful as I have been academically I still fear failure.

31. I have two true phobia’s: water and spiders. Holy ick.

30. The last movie I saw in an actual movie theater was Titanic in 1997

29. My biggest accomplishment to date was getting my bachelor’s degree.

28. I never ever shop at Wal-Mart

27. I can’t stand listening to actors who preach politics in public forums.

26. I am addicted to Starbucks hot chocolate. I am on my way there right now…

Next up…the final 25!

#'s 74-50

2006-02-27T17:45:00.000-08:00

Here are numbers 74 - 50 things about me!

74. I am a pure-bred youngest child (the youngest child of parents who were both the youngest in their sibling line).

73. I have a brother and a sister.

72. I have two nephews.

71. I wonder if loving naps on weekend afternoons is normal. Every weekend.

70. When my cell phone rings, it plays "Push It" by Salt-n-Pepa.

69. I love "Jack FM" and I don't know why.

68. I wish we had "Jack FM" here in Shreveport.

67. My favorite meal is filet mignon and lobster tails.

66. I sing the National Anthem at official military ceremonies on my base.

65. I don't think my voice is all that great, but I happen to sing that song decently.

64. When I was a little girl, I wanted to be Kurt Thomas. Didn't care that he was male.

63. I make one hell of a cheesecake.

62. Someday I will have a personal trainer and a personal chef.

61. I love to look at the stars when there are no lights anywhere around.

60. Seeing a hot air balloon makes me giggle and say "look look look!!!"

59. I won't answer my phone if The Soprano's are on.

58. I am a good leader because I am a great follower.

57. My sister in law bought me my first massage last month in Las Vegas at the Bellagio.

56. I prefer spending time alone more often than I like to spend time with others.

55. I have a resume with the sentence "I am really not a people person..." on it.

54. I run 4 days a week, and if I wasn't in the military, I wouldn't run. Ever.

53. I have been violently attacked by a vicious dog. To avoid that again is the only non-military exception to #54.

52. I love to read mindless drivel when I travel for business.

51. I wish I spoke another language fluently.

50. I am too lazy to learn another language fluently.

Tune in tomorrow for #'s 49-25! (this is kind of fun!)

100 things about me

2006-02-26T12:25:00.000-08:00

So, I have decided to steal an idea from my brother's blog and use it. He had done a list of 100 things about himself. Now, I hesitated to do this because of a couple of reasons. First, who gives a shit if they know 100 things about me or not? Second, I don't know if I could actually come up with 100 different things about myself. I fancy myself sort of simple really. However, I am going to give it a shot. And I am shooting from the hip here, so I apologize if I double up on things without realizing I have done so. If this happens, take it as a clue that I am really passionate about that aspect of myself. Also, be prepared, I am honest, and many things about me are SO not politically correct. If you can't handle it, don't read it. :)

To save room, I will do this in the following format: Today will be numbers 100-75, tomorrow will be 74-50, the next will be 49-25 and then 24-1. Here goes nothing...

100. I am a fully grown adult female who is only 4' 9" tall.

99. I have a better work ethic than most.

98. I am very self aware.

97. I am single and childless by choice

96. I love my dog more than I ever thought possible.

95. I sometimes wonder if it is normal to love my dog as much as I do.

94. I am a pro-choice republican.

93. I am very secure.

92. I don't like drinking anything carbonated.

91. The only reason I don't drink alcohol is because I don't like it.

90. I am Jewish.

89. I respect people who believe in God.

88. I don't believe in God.

87. I respect people who don't believe in God.

86. I have little patience for laziness.

85. I believe that people are the masters of their own destiny.

84. I want to destroy my TV when I hear commercials that say things like "did a stroke of bad luck hurt your credit and keep you from getting the car you deserve?"

83. People who drive in the left lane going under the speed limit irk me to no end.

82. People who rubber neck at car accidents irk me even worse.

81. If I had this kind of money, I would live on my own private island. With my dog.

80. I am working on savingthat kind of money.

79. I love convertibles.

78. I can't stand attention, even when it's positive.

77. I think people who "people watch" are rude. No one likes to be stared at.

76. I love being in the Air Force.

75. I am proud to say what I do for a living when asked.

Still reading? ha ha! Tomorrow I will come up with 74-50. If I can think of more. :)

It's that time of year again!

2006-02-04T14:12:00.000-08:00

Yes, I watch Dr. 90210. Not obsessively or anything, but I do love Dr. Li. I was so happy that her and her husband were able to finally have their baby!! Ok, enough about that.

So, as I said in the subject line, it's that time of year again! What time is that, you ask? VOLLEYBALL TIME! Yes, that's right, it's volleyball season out at Barksdale AFB. I really do enjoy volleyball. This year, I am actually the Assistant Coach. Allow me to follow that up with a very important statement...I am not the Assistant Coach because I am good. Actually, I suck. About the only thing I have going for me is that I am a decent server, and I am not afraid of the ball. It wasn't always like that, though. The first time I ever played volleyball was about 14 years ago, when I was stationed in Germany. It was our first game, and, being that we were on a NATO air station, it was country against country in all intramural sports. That night, it was the American's against the Italian's. I was up at the net, and my mirror on the Itialian team was a female. The ball is served, the Italian's set it up for the return and my mirror reaches up to set the ball and what I saw stopped me dead in my tracks. I was about 20 years old, it was my first time out of the country, and my knowledge of other cultures was limited at best. What I learned that night was that Itialian women do not shave their underarms. Not It, born Itialians. I had never seen such a thing in my life and there I stood, at the net, frozen. It was like I had just laid eyes on Medusa and I had turned into a pillar of salt. I was so frozen that I didn't even see the ball as the Itialians spiked it, hitting me square on the face, breaking my glasses, breaking my nose and laying me out right there on the NATO gym floor. I was living proof that, yes, the ball CAN hurt you and I swore I would never play volleyball again.

Fast forward to Sept, 2004 and HSA school at Sheppard AFB. Mandatory volleyball. That's right, mandatory. We did standard PT for an hour in the morning and followed it up with an hour of competitive volleyball. When one is forced, most of the time, one learns. I am still a lousy player, but at least now I enjoy the game. Who knows, maybe this year we will actually win a game!

It boggles my mind...

2006-01-22T17:35:00.000-08:00

I subscribe to Popular Science magazine. I also subscribe to Natural History. This is because I am really nothing but a nerd at heart. I make no apologies for my choice of reading material. I dig that kind of stuff.

Tonight I was perusing the latest Pop Sci and I came across an article on this new Mars Rover that is being tested. It will help in the quest to identify life on the planet. This 'bot, nicknamed Zoe, can move around on it's own power, and can also be controlled remotely from Earth should it ever loose it's own power or functionality. This is pretty similar to the current Mars rover. True, we lost contact with the 'bot that is currently up there a time or two, but we did have some contact with it for long spells. That being said, tonight I was talking with a friend of mine, Wendy, and using my cordless phone from my kitchen. As usual, I brought the phone into the den with me, and as usual, it began to lose reception. And I thought to myself, how is it that we can control a robot on Mars from Earth, but I can't get my reception to work on my cordless phone from the kitchen to my den? Hmmm??

Crayfish and Crawfish and Mudbugs OH MY

2006-01-17T19:44:00.000-08:00

I do enjoy the premiere episodes of American Idol. A guilty pleasure indeed. To be honest, I couldn't care less about the rest of the season or who will ultimately win the competition. I just love the losers they have during the first week or two on the show. I laugh so hard it hurts. I have people that I send instant messages back and forth with as the show is going on and we just howl at the antics. I have actually come close to falling out of my chair, hyperventalating, and choking on my mint tea as I watch. It's simply a great way to end a stressful day. Laughing that hard MUST have medicinal properties because I swear I sleep better after I watch it.

Ok, side note...my dog has sleep apnea. I am convinced of it. She snores like a man, then stops breathing and twitches herself awake. Very odd.

I have been here in the Shreveport Bossier area for just over a year now and have learned one great truth about this quasi-city. These people love...nay...they WORSHIP their crawfish. They have nicknames for them, like crayfish and mudbugs. They have an entire festival dedicated to the crawfish that takes place every spring. They make them into gumbo, etuffee and just plain boiled. The crawfish to them is everything. I admire their dedication to the little crustacean. I, however, have a different impression of the crawfish. My first experience with a crawfish was in the 8th grade where we were required to dissect one in science class as part of our final exam. My next and only other experience with the mudbug was 20 years later, right here in Shreveport. This is partly because I have never again had reason to even think about the crawfish once I passed my science class, much like I never again thought about the worm we were required to dissect as our first project in the class. Now that I was here, bombarded daily by everything craw, I figured I would at least try and see what all the fuss was about. When in Rome, right? Admittedly, I had a tough time getting past the whole 8th grade dissection thing, but get over myself I did. I went to a local restaurant, and had myself a mudbug. I immediately knew why it got the nickname "mudbug". Because that is exactly what it tasted like. A bug that someone dug up out of the mud, heated up and put on the plate. Crawfish are tricky little suckers too, they show up on your plate disguised as little midget lobsters. Do not be fooled. They are really, reallly NOT lobsters. Really.

Disappointed, I had to step outside myself and see if I was just being biased. Too consumed consciously or otherwise by the science class all those years ago, perhaps? I came to the honest self realization that I was not biased. In fact, the truth of the matter is, I think the people here eat crawfish for one reason and one reason only. They can't afford lobster.

What a blast!

2006-01-15T19:24:00.000-08:00

Whoo hoo!!! The chick trip was a rousing success!! Actually the entire trip was awesome! I saw my sister in law, my brother and my two gorgeous nephews. My sister in law and I went to Las Vegas for three days of my trip and my o' my. Las Vegas is something that must be experienced rather than described. However, I will attempt to describe at least one part of the trip. My sister in law and I went to see the show Le Reve at the Wynn. Done by the same guys who put together Cirque Du Soleil. Yee ha. I have come to the conclusion that two men, with the right physique, are downright sexy together. Holy macaroni. The entire show was sensual, emotional, and had its share of eroticisim. Splendid. Holy hot men. Don't get me wrong, the show wasn't just about sexy men. Not by any means. However, that is what I chose to focus on. Hee hee.

I also went to a spa for the first time at the Bellagio where we stayed, and had my very first massage. My sister in law does that kind of self-pampering all the time, but I have never had the desire really to partake. I get a pedicure about twice a month, but that doesn't really count as self-pampering, does it? It was somewhat nerve wracking at first because all of us women were running around naked. I think i was the only one with a complex about it. Once I got over myself, I was able to relax and enjoy it. And the Bellagio has really good coffee, among other things...

We got back to Seattle, and had a chance to really enjoy the city. Washington state is beautiful. Even raining it's just fantastic. The mall in downtown Seattle is serious. It's anchors are Niemen Marcus, Sax's, Macy's, and Nordstroms. That's what I'M talkin' bout! Not a freakin' Sears or Dillards to be found! LIFE IS GOOD in Seattle! I might want my next assignment to be there. It was almost painful to come back to Bossier City. As I have said before, there are worse places to be than Bossier City. It's not bad here, but we don't even have a Macy's. Have I said that before? I think I am starting to develop a pattern here...

Less than a week away!

2006-01-01T15:36:00.000-08:00

We are officially at 5 and a wake up before the chick trip! I am so excited.

I am sitting here, after just having returned from my evening run, and I am listening to my dog try and catch her breath. It amazes me how it takes her so long to get back to herself after we run. We run almost every day, and you'd swear she'd never run before. She started becoming very distracted lately when we go running. She stops and sniffs everything and it's very counter productive when it comes to my run. I end up having to stop every 30 seconds so she can sniff stuff. I try and yank her away from whatever it is that got to her nose, but when she digs her heals in, i am stuck. She's a big girl. She never used to do it before, and now i end up having to take her for a walk and go for my run separately. I really enjoy running with her and would prefer to do it that way, but somethings gotta change! Maybe i will take her to a class at PetSmart.

Speaking of bad things my dog has done lately...a while back I agreed to pet sit the dog of a colleague of mine. A big drooling lab. Sweet dog, and i decided to watch her at my house. I figured that Macy would have a playmate for a week. Well, this other dog had a habit of digging holes in the yard, and Macy picked up on it. She never dug a single hole before this other dog came along, and now my yard had these 5 massive holes in them. So this weekend I ended up going to Lowe's and buying five 40-lb bags of dirt to fill in the holes, grass seed, and chicken wire to cover the spots and keep her from digging them up again. Chicken wire. What fun. That is some nasty stuff. Thank my insight for buying gardening gloves to work with it. It seems to have done the trick and no more holes have been started, but what a pain. Since this is my first dog, I really need to figure out how to stop these things. She is generally very disciplined. She doesn't bark even when the neighbors dogs are at the fence, scratching and barking their heads off. I am thankful for that. She is house trained, comes when called, sits, stays (most of the time), etc. I need to learn how to teach an old dog new tricks I guess.

Chick Trip!!!

2005-12-22T17:43:00.000-08:00

Whoo hoo!!!! Chick Trip!!!!

I am going on a vacation to Tacoma Washington and then to Las Vegas with my sister in law in about 2 weeks and I simply can't wait! I have never been to Las Vegas, and to be totally honest, I have never even had the desire to go. I am not a drinker, and I find nothing fun about gambling. However, we are going to go see Cirque du Soleil (and I KNOW I destroyed the spelling of it, but oh well) and I am really looking forward to that part of it. I have always been a fan of live theater and I have been wanting to see that show for a long time.

Work is going great, and I am in a nice groove. I am a little sad that my current commander is going to be retiring in about 4 months. Ok, i am VERY sad about that. I have had a lot of bosses since i have been in the work force, but i can count on one hand the number of really good ones that I have had. This guy is one of the good ones.

I must interject a thought here; As i am writing this entry, i am listening to this Deal or No Deal show on the TV, and it's sick. Oh my, I am not even on the show, and I am sweating. Gotta tell ya, my stomach couldn't handle a show like that. I am just not a gambler.

I had PRK vision correction about 2 weeks ago and I am hoping that my eyesight will be better by the time i leave for my chick trip. It's probably about 20/30 right now. I realize that the difference in immediate results between PRK and LASIK is pretty extreme, but PRK is a much better and safer procedure, and worth the extra healing time it takes to be able to see clearly again. The procedure itself though, PRK, i mean, was quite painful. They warned us about the level of discomfort, but man, eye pain sucks.

I hope that those of you who are reading have a very merry Christmas and a happy Hanukkah and if you are in a place that has nova, cream cheese and bagels available, please have some for me!